Part 8: Hope and Miracle
by pjstillnoon
Summary: Part 8 of the 'You Don't Lie To Me' series: The boys growing up.
1. Chapter 1

Cal pushed the end of his blood red tie through the knot, straightened it out, tugged on it and tightened it up, so it was snug against his throat. He adjusted the binding to make sure it was tidy and even. Then he folded down the collar of his shirt, running his fingers around the back of his neck to make sure he had got all of it. "Done!" He turned to his nearly three-year-old son who was sitting on top of his dresser drawers, inspecting his father's deodorant bottle, trying to figure out how to get the top off it again. Cal reached in to confiscate the item and put it back out of reach.

"Yay!" Owen clapped his hands excitedly, mouth wide open, showing off his tiny white teeth. His blue eyes flashed. His hair was just about bleach blonde like his big brother's had been at the same age, but minus the curls. His locks weren't exactly straight, but he had never managed the feat of ringlets like son number one. Owen kicked his heels against the wood he was sitting on and gave a delighted squeal.

"I want to see, I want to see!" Lewis jumped up and down at his father's side, reaching up with his arms as if he wanted to be picked up. Instead, he hooked his fingers over his father's arm and tugged downward.

Cal turned to show him, smoothing the front of his black shirt which was tucked into his black trousers. Shiny black belt, shiny black shoes. "What do you think?"

"Very nice Dad," Lewis told him. He signed a bigger 'beautiful' gesture to indicate he meant Cal was extra beautiful.

"Thanks," Cal gave him a grin.

"Yay!" Owen repeated from his perch, throwing up his arms up above his head like his brother had a moment ago.

"Gill?" Cal called out.

"Just a minute!" She yelled back through the closed bathroom door.

"All right," Cal turned to his seven year old. "Jacket?"

Lewis spun to get it from the end of the bed. He carried it over carefully by the collar. Cal reached for Owen on his dresser and lifted the wriggly toddler down to the ground. Cal took his suit jacket from his elder son and slipped it on. He checked his hair in the mirror. He looked all right, he thought anyway. Older of course, but not too bad considering. He smoothed down a section of his hair that grew a little funny around the scar on his head; it was always worse just after he'd had a haircut.

He turned back to his boys. "Now we have to wait for Mum." He brought his hands up, fingers up towards the ceiling and to the side of his body. He gave them a slight wiggle.

Lewis perched on the edge of the bed. Cal leaned down and picked Owen up under the arms, plopping him onto the mattress next to his brother. Then he took a seat at the end of the row.

"How long is Mum going to be?" Lewis asked innocently. He signed 'long' and 'how' as well as 'Mum'.

"You know, Lewis, that's a fantastic question." Cal made a question mark in the air. "Because what you should learn about women, now, while you're still young." He signed 'learn' and 'little' and 'female' by making a fist to the side of his chin with the thumb extended and moving it in a slight circle. "Is that they take foreva to get ready to go out. They say half an hour tops, but what they mean is at least an _hour_ and a half." He twirled a finger in the air, pointing at the ceiling, and then changed it to a 'Y' hand shape as it moved away from his body. That meant 'eternity' and it was close enough to forever for Lewis to get the point he was trying to make.

"I can hear you," Gillian announced as she pulled open the bathroom door with a flourish. She stepped out in black strappy heels, a black dress that curved in and spread from her hips downward loosely. At her waist was a sash of colour the same as Cal's tie. That was Gillian's doing. So was the fact that they were going out this evening.

"Yay!" Cal burst into applause, Lewis and Owen following closely behind him.

"Yay!" Owen echoed loudly. He added an excited squeal.

"Mum looks pretty!" Lewis called out, signing beautiful again, but exaggerating it so much he just about took Owen out with a hand to the face.

Gillian laughed. "Such a reception!" Cal got to his feet clapping louder. He let rip an appreciative whistle. "Stop it!" She laughed again. Cal moved fast to cut her off from walking around the bed. He put his arms around her waist quickly, moving closer to her to press his nose in against her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume and the slightly waxy smell of make-up. She was warm. She was always warm. He murmured against her skin; nothing in particular. Behind him their boys cried out for him to leave Mum otherwise he would make her look unpretty. Again.

Gillian looked him in the eye. "Should I be offended they said 'again'?"

Cal chuckled. "You look amazin'. So beautiful," he whispered beneath her ear.

She pushed against him slightly, shooting him a smile as she stepped away. Save it, she seemed to say and he gave a grin. The best bit about going out? Was coming home.

Lewis bounded over to his mother to give her a hug and Owen slid down the mattress to also waddled over as the door bell rang. "Your turn," Cal told his wife and headed for the door. While he left he could hear Gillian reprimanding Owen lightly for wrinkling her dress.

Cal headed for the front door and pulled it open. "Ms Gale," Cal greeted her.

The younger woman looked up at him with a smile. "Hi Mr Lightman."

"You can call me Cal you know," he told her again stepping aside to let her in.

"And you can call me Cathy," she smiled shyly as she came in off the stoop.

Cal closed the door behind her. Routines and lines; they all played their roles. That's what his life was now. Routines and lines and playing a role. He had been at it for too long to even think about change. But then, why would he? They went to the neighbours for barbecue's and the teenager down the road sat for their kids while his wife dragged him out to charity events because even after all these years she still wanted the Lightman Group to have a good reputation in the city. Who was he to deny her that?

Cal followed Cathy down the hallway. Lewis came bounding down the stairs. "Hi!" He called out to her.

"Hi Lewis," she stooped to greet him. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"Movie!" Lewis jumped from the last step. "I already picked one out." He took Cathy by the hand and turned her towards the kitchen doors.

"And then bed straight afta!" Cal called after him, mostly for the babysitter's benefit. He looked up to see Gillian coming down the stairs, holding on to Owen's hand, sexy shoes coming first. Owen was in his pyjamas, all ready for bed. He would more than likely fall asleep on the couch when he came up against the point where he was unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

Cal reached out his arms and Owen leapt from the second to last stair. Cal caught him easily, pressing kisses against his cheek and ear and the side of his head. Owen let out a giggle. He was three, technically, barely, but was still missing those two months, so he was just a little wee man. Cal carried him into the living room. "Dad I watch TV?"

"Yeah buddy, you can watch the movie with Lewis and Cathy," Cal headed across the living room and dropped Owen on to the couch next to his brother. "Give Dad a kiss," he brought his hand up to his forehead with open 'five' fingers and then down to his mouth, the fingers closed and across to his cheek.

Owen reached up on his tiptoes, leaning against the back of the couch to wrap his arms around his father's neck. He smacked a wet kiss against Cal's cheek. On the seat next to him Lewis turned over and knelt next to his brother. Cal pried Owen loose and turned to his other son. The TV was already showing the movie Lewis had picked out; something from their library, something he had seen a million times before. Cathy was sitting on the very end of the couch, getting last minute instructions from Gillian, nodding along politely. And then Gillian gave Owen and Lewis hugs and kisses and encouraged Owen to turn and start watching the movie. He kept one eye on them for a few minutes, making sure they weren't about to leave, even though he knew that they were all dressed up and there was Cathy there to babysit and that more than likely meant his parents were going to go at some point and he would go to sleep without them there. But after a while he was more absorbed in the million and first viewing of the movie and Gillian and Cal snuck out.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dad!" The wail was sharp and it made Cal's heart pound. He got up from the bed quickly, throwing back the covers and met his three year old son in the door way to the master bedroom. The boy was still in his pyjamas and so was Cal.

"What is it?" Cal crouched to the blonde haired boy's height, expecting to be shown an injury of some sort.

Owen held out his teddy with both hands and a trembling lip, his blue eyes wide and watery. He looked on the verge of a serious break down. And then Cal realised. Teddy was in two pieces. Well nearly. His leg was hanging off literally by a thread. "Teddy," Owen whimpered in explanation.

"What happened?" Cal sat back so he was cross legged on the carpet, relieved. He took the soft toy carefully from his youngest son and inspected the damage. It looked like a clean severance; the stitching had merely come loose.

"I was, and then the," Owen mumbled something else Cal couldn't understand and gave a vague wave of his hands.

"You were playin' too roughly?" Cal guessed.

Owen's lip pouted further, red and glossy, and he nodded reluctantly with his head drooped.

"Rememba I said you had to be careful of Teddy?"

Owen nodded again, leaning forward so he was kneeling on his father's leg while he inspected the damage. "Lewis said."

"Oh did he?" Cal mused. "Where is your big brutha?" He used a 'wh' question gesture.

"In there," Owen pointed down the hall to their bedroom.

"All right. You go tell him to come and see me all right? And then late-a we'll take teddy to get fixed."

"To the spital?"

"Yep," Cal agreed. He made a cross on his left upper arm with his right. "The hospital." Because that was where everything got better apparently. Maybe because they showed Owen the pictures of him in the hospital when he had been born pre-term; and Lewis talked about it a bit because he remembered back that far relatively vividly. Especially when they dressed him up to go in the NICU that time. And of course, Cal had to explain to his boys what the massive scar on his head was from, which most certainly involved a hospital. So hospitals made things all better.

"The teddy hospital," Cal clarified. "Go and get Lewis for me," he nudged his three year old again. Owen took off at a run and Cal called after him to walk. How quickly that kid forgot smashing his nose just last week on the edge of the couch because he ran across the room, tripped over his own feet and spilt blood on the carpet. Owen dropped to a trot and Cal could hear him calling to his brother as soon as he reached the boys' bedroom door. Cal got to his feet, taking Teddy with him carefully to his dresser, and retrieved a clean t-shirt. He was slipping it over his head as his eight year old came in.

Lewis was dressed, shorts and t-shirt, his hearing aids on, his light brown hair was unbrushed though and sticking up at the back where he had slept on it. The freckles across his nose were dominant in the summer months and he looked so much like his mother. He was getting tall now too. He approached his father, reaching out a hand to lean on his dresser, trailing a patter on the carpet with his big toe.

"Lewis," Cal turned to him. "Were you swingin' your brutha's teddy around by his leg again?" He hooked his index and middle fingers over each other and swung them toward and away from himself.

Lewis looked up at him, watching, calculating, waiting.

"Rememba I talked to you about that? How you were not allowed to do that because Ted is Owen's bear and you would break him?" He put two fists together, meeting along the edge of his thumbs with the back of his hands up, then moved them down abruptly and apart, like he had broken them in two.

"Owen did it." He used 'fault', a curved hand at his shoulder, pivoting against his body.

"And did you encourage him?" Cal moved his open facing hands in small circular motions.

Lewis twisted his mouth as he thought about the question, ducking his head to study his toe, still tracing over the carpet.

"Look at me," Cal drew two fingers from his son up to his own eyes. Lewis's head came up dutifully. "Stand up," Cal directed gently. He signed 'stand' and 'straight'. Lewis stood on both his feet and ceased his fidgeting.

"Sorry Dad." He rubbed a fist around his chest.

"Yeah," Cal agreed. "And what about Owen?" Open hands, curled fingers: 'wh?'.

"It wasn't me!"

"What about Ted though?"

"Aw, but," and then he stopped. "All right," he agreed. He knew better than to argue; most of the time Cal was merely looking for the boy to take responsibility for his actions. "Can you fix Ted?" He brushed the tips of his fingers on his right hand against his left.

"Will have to send him away," Cal noted.

"Aw," Lewis pouted. "Maybe Owen can use Snowy."

Snowy was another of their many soft toys, an albino frog, of all things. Lewis recognised it was the same colour as the snow that fell in winter, hence the name; not that strange for a frog after all.

"Go back and tell Owen he can borrow my bear for tonight," Cal made two 'K' hands, rested one on top of the other and moved them away from his body for 'borrow' and crossed his arms at the wrist over his chest, clawing twice for 'bear'.

Lewis looked up suddenly, blue eyes wide. They drifted to the drawer in the dresser where Giggle Bear had his home. Both the boys had a fascination with the fact their father had a teddy bear. Both wanted it. Neither were allowed. The bear was Cal's and Lily's but he wasn't sure they knew that. He hadn't told them. They just knew their father had a teddy and that was funny because other dad's didn't have teddies. In their household, it was Gillian without a teddy bear. She told them she cuddled up to Dad at night and she didn't need one.

"Owen can borrow Bear," Lewis offered, moving his 'K' hands.

"That's kind of you," Cal noted. "But too late. Can you take your brutha downstairs for breakfast?"

Lewis nodded a little sullenly. He had missed his chance to volunteer first and earn some extra brownie points to redeem for the destruction he had inadvertently caused in the first place. "Good boy," Cal planted a kiss on his head and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Thank you for bein' a big brutha."

Not a good brother. He had encouraged Owen's teddy's accident that could result in an amputation. But he was taking his lumps and still going to look after the younger boy as Cal asked, as Cal knew he would. Lewis wrapped his arms around his father in a quick hug and headed for the door. Cal followed him to close it. "Oi!" Gillian called from across the room, emerging from the bathroom.

Cal turned. "What?"

"What are you doing up?"

"Owen came in. It looks like Ted fell from a helicopta." As he walked away from the door he could hear the thud of Lewis bounding down the steps outside the master bedroom door and the call of Owen asking him to go slower so he could keep up. He knew better than to try and do what his big brother could do. He had the scab on his nose to prove it and the bruise on his elbow and shins from where he had fallen down to the landing. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way.

"We were supposed to '_sleep in'_," Gillian noted with emphasis. She met Cal back at his dresser. "You know," her blue eyes widened slightly for a second to express what her mouth wouldn't say.

"Yeah I know," Cal agreed with a slight smile. "But our three year old came in _upset_."

"Funny how he's suddenly _our_ son."

Cal ignored her. "Can you fix Ted?"

Gillian studied the injury gingerly. "I think so. Might not be the best stitching job but yeah, I can at least sew his leg back on."

"Then we'll tell Owen he needs to be retired and on bed rest."

"For the rest of his life?"

Cal nodded. "If there's one thing this family undastand's it's that we're not all a hundred percent."

Gillian stepped a little closer to him, ran her fingers through his hair, brushing gently over the scar. Cal had scars, Lewis had his hearing loss, Owen had arrived in this world too early. Yeah they understood all too well. "Come back to bed." She took her husband's hand and started to walk backwards, tugging him along gently with her.

"I told Owen we'd take him to the teddy hospital today."

Gillian nodded. "Later."

"And I'll lend him Giggle Bear for tonight."

Gillian raised an eyebrow. "That's..." She paused. "A big deal." Cal gave a shrug. They reached the bed. "Now stop showing off about what a great father you are, and show me what an amazing lover you are."

Cal gave a slight smirk, his lip curling up in the corner. "Have you forgotten?"

"Too few and far between Cal," Gillian reminded him.

"I know," he almost sighed. "It's just."

"I'm not criticising," Gillian quickly cut in. "I'm saying... it's Saturday. Barring an emergency..." And Lewis was aware of what constituted as an emergency; someone bleeding, something on fire, or if someone stopped breathing and was unconscious. The door and phone were to be ignored. And Cal hoped now, there would be no more swinging teddy bears, or anything else, around above the head like a helicopter rotor.

"The boys are downstairs right?" Gillian was suddenly anxious.

"Yes, they're downstairs," Cal stepped towards her, closing the distance. He felt her stumble against the edge of the bed. "I love this by the way," he ran a hand down her side, over the light grey silk negligee she had gone to change in to once they had woken, before Owen had pulled Cal from bed too.

"And here I was thinking perhaps you hadn't noticed."

"Course," Cal practically growled, leaning in closer so their foreheads were together. His arm slipped around her back, pulling her against his chest. He planted soft kisses against her throat. "I always notice."

"Hm," Gillian agreed wrapping her arms around his neck. That was true. He always noticed. He might have scars, and maybe the occasional migraine, but he was not slow any more, he noticed, he didn't lose track. He was back. Gillian let her knees bend, dropping back against the mattress, Cal falling with her. He gave a little surprised grunt; their legs tangled and their hips pressed together.

Cal went back to kissing his wife's neck. "So damn sexy Gillian," he murmured. Gillian sighed, feeling her stomach squirm. Oh he was good.


	3. Chapter 3

Cal watched his wife through the window of her car, across the forecourt and the store's window. She flicked her fingers through the end of her hair, tilted her head a little to the side and Cal bet she was grinning right now, though he couldn't see her face. She was flirting. He could see that even this far away. With some guy behind the cash register while she paid for the gas. Cal squinted to see better and wished for his glasses; he was still not of the habit of carrying them around with him for opportune moments; he still usually just wore them when he was at work so he could see faces better. Cal might be able to recognise Gillian a mile off but the guy behind the counter, well, he couldn't even be sure it _was_ a guy to be honest. Young or old? Hot or not?

Cal shifted in his seat, grumbling his displeasure to himself a little. He watched Gillian turn, tucking her wallet back into the purse slung over her shoulder as she headed outside again. One-year-old Lewis was asleep in the back of the vehicle in his car seat, blonde curls glowing in the sun, head turned to one side, cheeks red from teething and the front of his shirt damp with drool. He didn't stir as his mother let her door click closed again. She nudged Cal's leg so she could put her purse on the floor in front of his seat. He didn't resist her moving his limb but he didn't help by doing it himself.

Gillian looked up at him surprised and he stared. "What?" She asked innocently. Cal watched her a moment longer, his eyelids drooping low, unimpressed. "What?" She asked again with a slightly nervous laugh. She sat back in her chair, keys in her hand, eyes on him, waiting for him to explain himself.

"You have fun?" Cal asked lightly.

"Fun?" Gillian gave him a slight frown. She leaned forward and put the right key in the ignition, turning the engine over and then reaching back for her seatbelt.

"In there," Cal jerked his chin.

Gillian put the vehicle in gear, checked her mirrors and then pulled away from the pump. "Fun?" She repeated softly. "Oh," she suddenly sounded like the penny had dropped. And that she was a little embarrassed. "You?"

"I've got eyes," Cal confirmed. "Funnily enough."

She glanced over as she stopped at the curb to check traffic before pulling out on to the road. "That was nothing."

"Didn't look like nothin' to me."

Gillian gave a slight smile. "Mild flirting, if that."

"I'm offended you felt it all right for even mild flirtin'."

"You can't tell me you don't flirt."

"I don't!" Cal feigned shock.

"Please," Gillian just about groaned. "The woman at the market?" So she _had_ seen. She hadn't said a word about it at the time. Cal looked out his window to hide the little smile from his wife. Not that this was particularly funny. Not that he was particularly bothered. A little mild flirting. A little mild jealousy. Actually, that helped keep things a little more... lively... in their marriage. Even if they weren't at a point where their marriage needed a 'spice' injection.

'_Maybe that was the point_,' Cal mused to himself. Their marriage didn't seem to have lulled and maybe that was because they were doing all the right things _before_ it did; before they got a death sentence.

Also, the woman in the market had started flirting with him and Lewis sitting in the front of the trolley while Cal waited for Gillian to duck back to the previous aisle because she forgot something. The woman at the market had spent more time flirting with Lewis, if everyone was to be honest and with Cal only by proxy. And she had high-tailed it as soon as Gillian had shown up again. So really, it was not Cal's doing, nor had he flirted back in particularly encouraging way.

A lithe hand on his thigh turned his head back towards his wife quickly. Gillian stared straight ahead at the road but Cal watched her face as he felt her fingers slip further around the curve of his muscle, higher so she was almost against his groin. He felt his heart speed up a little, felt heat prickle along his chest, felt his breath stall, his body tense, his hands grip the car door handle and the cushion he was sitting on; felt her hand stroking his leg gently through his thin work trousers.

"Were you jealous?"

Cal had to take a second to make sure his voice wasn't going to fail on him. And she wasn't even really doing anything naughty... just... wow her hand was really high. "Maybe," Cal answered nonchalantly.

Gillian pouted, eyes still on the road. "Aw. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Cal bit back a snide response about having his head shrunk and something else swollen simultaneously by an incredibly hot but very naughty doctor; their son was in the car after all. Instead, he lowered his voice to a growl, "You're _my_ wife."

He watched as Gillian seemed to... quiver or shiver in her seat. Her hand tightened on his flesh, squeezing, making him feel jumpier. Her hand was _so_ close!

"Tell me," she just about whispered.

Cal barely heard her over the road noise. "Mine," he growled again. The fingers tightened, she hitched her breath and when she glanced over at him, her eyes were dark.

'_Oh good lord_,' Cal thought. This was dangerous. Because she was driving. But also... nope, mostly because she was driving. He wanted to jump her. He was holding on to the door now to keep his self restraint.

And the reason why flirting was allowed? Because, for whatever strange reason, Cal didn't care to find out about, a little flirting, a little jealousy, was a turn on for Gillian. He could surmise quickly it was something to do with the either of them having to reassert to the other that they really were committed to each other that she liked. It didn't matter too much to him. Whomever he flirted with these days were nothing more than a vehicle for Cal to read his wife, to see how bothered she was, and whoever Gillian flirted with, which she did so very rarely, she only did so, so Cal would tell her just how much he hated it because he loved her and wanted her for himself. It worked though. Every time.

Gillian pulled into their garage, cut the engine, sat back a little and avoided his eye. She had to retract her hand from his leg to put the car in park. She sat for a second more, then pulled on the latch to pop open her door. She took her keys in hand, leaving her purse where it was and got out. Cal was quick to follow. They both closed their doors carefully, pushing them shut with a hip rather than letting them slam in to place. In his car restraint, in the back seat, Lewis slept on, red cheeked and drool sliding from between his slack, red lips. When Gillian came around the car she reached for Lewis's door and opened it and then Cal grabbed her wrist. She gave him a questioning expression and Cal shook his head in response. He tugged her towards the internal access door and she followed along silently, but questioningly.

Cal left that door open, blatantly, so she would get the point. When Lewis woke up and started calling out, they would hear him, but for now... he had other plans for them. Gillian gave a slight smile as Cal practically pushed her into the house, into the living room, into the couch. Gillian fell back over the arm of the furniture and Cal joined her, her hands gripping his shirt, tugging. Cal found her neck easily, started planting kisses. Gillian gave a sigh. "How long do you think Lewis is going to sleep for?"

"How sad that we schedule our sex life around our son."

"Par for the course isn't it?"

"Hm," Cal neither agreed nor disagreed. He went back to kissing her neck. Her arms shifted up so she could embrace his shoulders. Cal's hands were occupied in holding his weight from crushing her. Gillian shifted a leg so his thigh was between both of hers; they were still hanging over the end of the couch and Cal felt her swing them, knocking her heels back against the arm in a carefree rhythm.

Gillian gave a little hum and turned her head, dislodging Cal from his work. She pressed her lips against his temple, shifting her arms to grip the sides of his face with her hands, moving him so she could find his mouth, clearly over being a passive participant. Cal danced his tongue against her lips and when she parted them to let him in he withdrew. She closed her mouth again, and again he teased but wouldn't comply with her silent request. She gave a kind of huff and he laughed a little and she shifted a hand rapidly to pinch his ear lobe between fore finger and thumb.

"Ow," Cal complained pulling his head away.

Gillian gave him a slight triumphant smile. She smoothed the shell of his ear, caressed the hair at the back of his neck. "He meant nothing to me."

"Oh yeah?" Cal feigned interest. "He start it?"

Gillian nodded innocently.

"He not notice your ring then?"

Gillian shook her head against the cushion.

"Typical men," Cal muttered, rolling his eyes good naturedly. Gillian took a deep breath, almost a sigh. "Maybe next time I'll have to come in and supavise."

"Yes, that's exactly what I need, a strong burly man to fend off all the fiends."

Cal chuckled. "Or I could just rip your clothes off and have my wicked way with you right there in the store. Then he'd get the point."

Gillian giggled at the ridiculousness. "Right there on the counter in front of him. Then he'd definitely get the point."

"Oooofff," Cal groaned, flinching into her hard. Her eyes widened slightly at him. She gave him a frown of discomfort and started to shove against him. "You brought that on yourself," he informed her, pushing against the couch to move out of her way, thinking she was going to sit up and play time was over.

"No," she corrected. "Not comfortable."

Cal shifted his legs down so he was kneeling on the cushion while Gillian scooted backwards, so her head was at the other end of the couch now and she was lying full length along the cushions. She lifted her knees, so her legs made A-frames and Cal took that as an invitation for him to press in against her, so they were hip to hip. Gillian wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him gently by the neck so she could kiss him again. Soft, warm, exploring kisses. Her fingers combed through the hair at the back of his skull, soothing and caressing.

A hard vibration shot through Cal's groin making him pull back in surprise. But Gillian looked up at him just as startled, her chest rising and falling rapidly. It took him a second to realise what was happening and he clicked just as Gillian said, "Oh it's ringing."

His phone. In his pocket. He shifted to answer it, finding himself excited by the buzz of the device. The way Gillian gripped his arm, she was clearly thrilled as well. '_That could be so much fun,_' Cal thought to himself, looking back at his wife as her breathing rate continued on its rapid run. Even with him pulling away from her.

Cal withdrew his phone and flipped it in his right hand to be able to press the 'answer' button, while his left continued to hold him up. "Yeah?" He finally responded. He listened for a moment. "Of course you're disturbin' me. It's the bloody weekend!"


	4. Chapter 4

AN: M chapter

**PJ**

An awkward silence fell between them and Cal was aware of the pain in his heart again. As soon as it got quiet he could feel it there. As long as he kept moving he could ignore it, disguise it, cover over it. The agony rippled out from his chest making him shudder. He got up from the couch. He could feel Gillian watching him. She had somehow migrated to the middle cushion, closer to him. Not touching, but certainly closer. That was too close. Cal reached for the dinner plates and took them to the kitchen wordlessly. He just needed a minute. Then he'd be ok. He'd probably have to start hinting that she should leave soon. He didn't want her to. He wanted her to stay forever. But that wasn't meant to be. They obviously weren't meant to be. They were going their separate ways. She wanted children; he didn't want anymore. Right? That's what he wanted right?

God it hurt.

At the sink Cal rinsed the plates and then left them in the bottom of the sink. He felt warm inside and like he couldn't catch his breath and it was all ridiculous; him feeling this way. He had made his choice and so had Gillian and it wasn't like either of them had tried to manipulate the other, nor were they demanding more than the other wanted to give, nor had they fallen out of love. But that was the problem though wasn't it? They hadn't fallen out of love. Cal felt his stomach clench and he gripped the edge of the bench, suddenly losing his breath, and then he felt small hands sliding over his body to wrap arms around his torso and then the comforting weight of Gillian's head resting on the back of his neck.

'_Oh god_.'  
>Cal turned, dislodging her warmth, and wrapped his arm around her tightly, squeezing her in as if he could absorb her by sheer force. '<em>Don't leave me<em>.' He felt Gillian practically sigh in to him; if it was possible, she got closer. Cal felt a new heat spread through him, radiating from her body to absorb through his skin. She smelt sweet and familiar and his stomach somersaulted with the scent. Cal lowered his head and pressed a kiss against the curve of her neck and shoulder. He rested there for a moment, holding her tightly, his lips against her warm skin.

Gillian's hand shifted down his back, smoothing over his flesh before her fingers hooked into the back of his belt loop, cementing their embrace. This was a better goodbye than that stupid kiss on the doorstep. What was he thinking? That he could simply walk away? Just like that. Walk away from her. Stupid. Of course it wouldn't be so simple. Of course he couldn't just walk away. Of course he couldn't say goodbye.

Gillian shifted her hand under the back of his shirt, stroking his skin. She pulled back a little, caught his eye and held it. Cal's breath stuttered in his chest. _So. Beau. Ti. Ful_, his heart beat out. He lowered his head towards her, heart thundering out its message. But then he hesitated. Seriously, what was he doing? Was this a better way to say goodbye to her? Was there ever a good way to say bye? Gillian closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his. It was a soft brushing of skin against skin but it was enough. Cal pressed harder and was delighted to feel Gillian respond. He parted her lips, or maybe she did it without prompting, and delved his tongue into the hot, wet, warmth of her mouth. He felt her fingers gripping his sides tightly, pushing and bunching his shirt more. Then she was shoving it up and pushing him back so she could pull it over his head.

Cal bumped back against the bench. As Gillian's fingers raked down his chest he grabbed for her, pulling her in tightly again. He smothered his mouth over hers, gulping the taste of her in. Gillian gave a throaty moan and started undoing his pants. Cal squeezed her ass, causing her to thrust in to him and she gave a surprised yelp, breaking away from his mouth. Cal pushed her roughly into the bench opposite, gripping the edge of her shirt and practically ripping it off her, tugging it up over her head. Gillian's hands pulled his hips in to her and Cal was aware of her pronounced breath. He kissed her again, roughly and desperately and he didn't care if she knew how he felt. He wasn't trying to convince her, but he wanted her to know, he loved her. He still loved her.

Cal traced his hand over the bare skin of her torso, over her breasts and down her spine. She shivered, her fingers working to undo his jeans. Cal unclasped her bra, trailing it over her arms and forcing her to stop to let it drop to the floor. She looked up at him and hooked her arms around his neck, so her chest was pressed tightly against his, skin to skin. She kissed him thoroughly again as his arms wrapped around her back and let her knees collapse to tug him to the floor. Cal lowered them in a controlled way. He let her out of his arms and she arched off the cold linoleum, grabbing him desperately.

Cal shifted more on to his side, holding her against him and undoing her dark trousers with his left hand. Gillian's fingers ran through the hair at the base of his neck, then tugged him down to kiss again; hot, slow, wet, thorough exploration of his mouth that made him painfully aware of himself. After her trousers, he undid his own. Gillian shifted her hands to push the material out of the way, to get at his skin. Cal went back to shoving at her clothes, his tongue dancing a duet with hers.

And finally it seemed there was no space between them. Gillian pulled him towards her and Cal shifted to meet her and it was bliss. He turned his weight so he was over her, resting on his hands, looking down. Gillian lay back, her arms still around his shoulders, fingers caressing his neck, smoothing, comforting. She pulled him in for another kiss, warm and sweet this time, delicate and forgiving. Cal made love to her, on his kitchen floor; worshipping, weaving a farewell.

Sweat slickened her skin beneath his touch and the heat of their entanglement warmed the floor around them. Gillian gave little breathy moans that echoed in the empty kitchen; the only sound was them saying goodbye, imprinting each other on their skin one more time. Cal kissed her and kissed her, as if he were trying to drown himself, as if he were slightly afraid of looking her in the eye. He didn't want her to see how much he hurt, how much he was going to miss her; he was too scared to look and see if she was going to miss him at all. So he worshipped her instead. He tattooed this final moment on to his skin and all over his heart and tonight when he had to go to bed alone he might pretend she was there next to him, that he could still feel her there with him. Gillian didn't cry out his name. She didn't beg him or tell him she loved him. But she clung on tightly. She kissed him back with fervour. She quivered with every stroke of their bodies. She whispered memories against the skin of his neck, branding her lips over his flesh. They both knew what this was.

Cal felt the most incredible sorrow in his chest as he held her afterward. She clung tightly and when he finally started to pull away he pretended he couldn't see the tears in her eyes. He sat back on his haunches, pulling his underwear into place so he could sit on the cold floor without being completely uncomfortable. Of course, the temperature of the floor on his bare arse was really the last of his immediate problems. Gillian wouldn't look at him and what had been beautiful now felt a little sordid.

Cal reached for his shirt and found her bra amongst the material. He handed it over wordlessly and she took it without meeting his eye. They dressed slowly; not to make the moment last longer, they were just tired. Cal was thankful she didn't just get up and run; he thought he needed this slower, gentler journey down the tunnel to the end he knew was inevitable. She was going to go home alone in a minute. She was going to leave and then that really would be it. He couldn't follow. He couldn't knock on her door. They were going their separate ways.

God it hurt.

She wasn't even rejecting him. That might have been easier. If she had just told him that she didn't love him, that he hadn't changed and she could no longer put herself through this. But as it was, even though he understood the why, it seemed like a bigger slap in the face. It wasn't him and yet it was. He _hadn't_ changed. If he had, he would be having a baby with her, instead of jamming a thousand tiny pins into his own chest. He was selfish and he didn't know how to be otherwise. He just didn't know.

Cal realised they were simply sitting there now, on his kitchen floor. He didn't want to kick her out but he certainly didn't know what to do next. Gillian always seemed to know. She always knew what was best. So maybe them breaking up was for the best too. Maybe somewhere down the line he was simply going to break her heart and she had found a way out. Maybe he was over thinking this.

Gillian got to her feet and did up the fly of her trousers. Cal got to his feet and did the same. Gillian combed her fingers through her hair and Cal wanted to do the same, to feel the soft smoothness one more time. Gillian pushed her feet into her shoes and seemed to look around for something... Cal stuffed his fingers in to the top of his jeans, hovered, wishing he was invisible and resisting the urge to scuff his toe like a school boy. Gillian started walking then, heading back for the living room, with the boxes stacked up against the sides, the TV in pieces on the floor, still waiting to be connected.

Gillian grabbed her keys and phone and jacket and turned to face Cal, who had followed her. She glanced at his face then stuffed her phone into her pocket and slid her arms through the jacket sleeves. "Thank you for dinner," she started, which sounded a lot like 'thanks for the sex.'

"Well," Cal gestured with an elbow. "I should thank _you_." Which sounded a lot like 'thanks for the shag.'

Silence followed.

Gillian flicked her hair out from beneath the collar of brown leather and switched her keys to her other hand. Cal almost offered a spare to this place and quickly bit it down. Nope, those weren't the rules by which they played anymore. It was over.

Over.

Gillian seemed to work up the courage to head for the door and Cal followed along like the love sick puppy he was. He wondered if he said anything she would call it off. If he just dared to open his mouth... Now though. It wasn't too late if he did it now.

Yes it was.

Gillian pulled open the door and stepped through. Cal caught the edge of it and used it to prop himself up. This was getting more and more difficult, watching her leave. But then she hesitated just outside on the stoop and turned towards him slightly, so her body was angled facing the driveway; not completely away, but not completely there. "So, uh," she hesitated, frowned, looked down at the concrete. "I'll see you at work?" She straightened up again and looked over at him. He gave a nod and she bobbed her head in agreement and Cal could see the spot under her jaw where he had been a little too enthusiastic with his teeth. If that bruised she would kill him. And then she stepped down onto the path and headed for her car, which was parked on the street. Not in the drive, but on the street.

Cal watched her get in and then stepped back slightly and slowly pushed the door closed with a gentle click. He could hear her car engine start, hear it reverse, hear it fade away down the street. He turned to face the devoid hallway and fought back the urge to bawl his eyes out. He thought he understood now what it meant to have his heart broken.

God it hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

Cal stretched out on their bed, tucked one arm behind his head to give a bit more leverage and held his book in the other. Well it was Gillian's book really. A romance, yes, but not a 'Mills and Boon' women's porn romance with zero plot and flimsy characters and nipples on the cover. Cal had to admit, the book he was reading right now, was actually really well done and it was about a married couple in New York; the female lead was a cop. The book had a suspenseful case but the main point of it all was to show the development between the couple. It was masterfully, intelligently crafted, and deep enough to get even Cal thinking, but with sex scenes; fantastic!

He could hear Gillian in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and preparing for bed. The boys had gone down an hour ago, both of them together. Lewis was six now and wee Owen had celebrated his first birthday months ago but was also only twelve months old according to his adjusted age, so... whatever that meant in terms of birthdays. It was bloody confusing; he was either one or he wasn't.

The boys had been sharing a room since Owen was sleeping through the night, or at least, sleeping through a large block of time. He had grown out of the apnoea relatively quickly once he got home, but even now, he still had the breathing monitor, just in case. Gillian still was not quite ready to let go and they'd had a few close calls which justified it; two of them when they'd attempted to go monitor free. Even if it didn't go off, the monitor's presence didn't do anyone any harm. Cal could admit maybe he wasn't quite ready to let go entirely either.

Cal heard the click of the bathroom light going off and saw the door open out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up, as if he needed to double check just exactly who that was, and then looked back down at his page. He looked up again quickly and stared. The book fumbled from his fingers. He sat up a little. "Wow," he managed.

Gillian was in a very short, black, satin negligee. Around the trim of her thighs and breast was pink but she was too far away for Cal to see the exact detail. What he could see though, stole his breath away for a second and all he could do was stare. Gillian approached slowly and climbed over his torso, to sit over his hips. She gave him a slight smile and leaned down and gave him a soft, sweet kiss. When she pulled back she leaned her hands on his chest, resting her weight there. Cal immediately checked out as much of her as he could. Cleavage galore. Tanned thighs. Rosebuds, that's what the trim was, little pink rose buds.

"Am I missin' somethin'?" Cal murmured.

Gillian took a deep breath and she got serious and Cal realised that while the appealing apparel was to get his attention, which it had, it wasn't necessarily for anything sexual, it was just to get his attention, which it had. "I want to talk to you about something," Gillian started carefully.

"Right," Cal looked to her eyes while he raised his hands to her thighs. Her flesh was warm and soft. He was going to have a hard time concentrating; pun intended. "Hang on," he tipped her to the bed. She let out a protest before he leaned over her and kissed her deeply, their legs tangling. Her fingers gripped his shirt and arm and she kissed fiercely. Cal smoothed a hand down her side, over the silky material of the lingerie, to her hip and then thigh, as far as he could reach without relinquishing her mouth. Then he moved it up again, back over her stomach to her breast. A leg hooked over the back of his and Cal wondered if he was wrong, that this was what she really _had_ intended. Nope, he remembered, she said 'talk', so he eased off the kiss and pulled back and reached for the sheet on the bed to cover her up. She looked up from the pillow, amused, and waiting for him to explain. Cal, once he was satisfied what she was wearing was not going to distract him, although he was going to be freaking thinking about it anyway, shifted back to rest on his elbow. "What were you sayin'?"

Gillian smiled again, her eyes were shiny and her cheeks a little flushed. She still had fingers in his shirt and she let go of it completely, smoothing out the creases over his sternum. "Do you know how long we've been together?"

"Um," Cal thought for a second. Tricky question. He raised his hand slightly, "Don't tell me." He thought again... If they had been married seven years now then that meant... "Ten years," he summed up. He blinked. "Wow really?"

Gillian nodded. "Yeah."

Cal leaned down to kiss her again. "Did I miss an anniversary?"

Gillian shook her head. Cal shifted so he was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. They had hooked up at Christmas but not really decided to be _together_ until Emily's birthday the following January and their first official date had been another month after that. "No, no specific anniversary. But we've been together ten years now."

"That's..." Cal started, stumbled. "Wow," he offered sincerely.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed with another slight smile.

"Should I be apologisin' I didn't notice?"

Gillian gave him a purposeful frown. "Have I ever cared about that kind of thing?"

"Hm," Cal mused but nope, she was correct, she didn't tend to berate him for not paying the closest attention to that. He had never missed a wedding anniversary though and she certainly would kick his ass if he did. "So," he leaned in to kiss her briefly again. "Is this in honour of our ten year milestone?"

"Sort of," she gave him a slightly coy grin and Cal knew sex was definitely back on the table. Undoubtedly. After the talking. "I was thinking, do you remember when we first started dating? We'd have sex all the time?"

Cal gave her a bemused expression before nodding that, yes he did remember that.

"I don't want for us to get ten years into our marriage and be having sex once a month."

"Oh good lord," Cal blurted.

Gillian raised a hand to stay him. "This," she gestured to her body. "Is more like a pre-emptive strike. We used to have sex all the time and..."

"That's harda with kids," Cal cut in.

"Let me finish," Gillian retorted lightly. "We used to make effort."

"Do we not make effort anymore?" Cal asked concerned. Was there some fundamental flaw in his marriage he didn't know about?

"Would you stop and let me talk?" Gillian berated.

"All right sorry," Cal backed off.

"When you're first with someone and it's new and exciting you make all this effort with all the little things to make it special."

"That's cos you're tryin' to get into the otha person's pants."

Gillian glared. "And once you've been married for ten years those things are basically all gone. I know from experience."

Cal suspected she had also been reading up on the subject; this sounded like a semi-rehearsed idea. But he could concede she had a point. His first marriage had succumbed the same way. He started to understand what Gillian was saying.

"I don't want that to happen a second time; with you and me. I would have sex with you everyday if I could."

Cal gave a grin and she returned it. She reached up a hand to his ear and smoothed it between the edge of her finger and the pad of her thumb. "It's not always possible," she added. Cal nodded. "But... I don't want to fall into a sexless marriage; I don't want our marriage to suddenly become a chore."

"I'm with you," Cal butt in again. "I know what you mean. Just a little bit more conscious thought."

"Yeah," Gillian seemed pleased that he understood. And probably, most certainly, that he was agreeing with her.

"Can definitely do that," he smiled.

Gillian returned it. "Ok." She smoothed her hand to his cheek, stroking the skin beneath his eye softly. Cal watched her, amazed, more than anything, that he had been in a relationship with this woman for ten years. Ten years. It warranted a small amount of disbelief. Pleasant disbelief. And in three more years they would have been married for ten years and that was monumental. There was a time when Cal had been sure he had blown it forever. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinkin', do you count those six months we were apart?"

Gillian suddenly reached up and hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him down against her. "No. Absolutely not." She placed kisses against his head as she embraced him. Was it ironic that she had left him to have children, only to find when she actually had them, she was with him anyway? "Were we ever really apart then?"

That was an interesting point.

"You mean cos we still worked togetha or cos you couldn't keep your hands off me?"

Gillian laughed. She let him up a little so she could see his eyes. "I'm not even going to..." She shook her head and brought his mouth in close so she could kiss him. He immediately leaned in nearer, pressing his body closer to hers. His hand came to her waist, squeezing a little as they kissed. He pulled back to throw away the sheet and give her another appreciative once over. "Definitely wow," he told her again. She was back to working out, working on losing the baby weight now Owen was older and she had a small amount of alone time. Making a big deal about how fantastic she looked was a smart move. Cal decided he would join her before he got too squishy around the edges himself (he never did have time for that gym he had promised); plus it was one way they could spend time together.

Gillian gave him a grin and pulled him back in for another kiss. Cal hummed a little, then broke away to kiss down her neck. Gillian slipped her hands down his waist, tugging at his shirt to pull it up and over his head. Cal went back to trailing kisses lower down her chest. He hummed again. Then started singing: "_It feels so real, lying here, with no one near_." He whispered his lips against her skin. "_Only you_."

Gillian shifted her hips against him. "You have a beautiful voice Cal," she murmured.

"Thank you," he told her warmly, finding his way across her skin to the swell of her breast.

"Keep going," she encouraged.

Cal wasn't sure what in particular she was referring to so worked his tongue against her nipple, making her back arch and then murmured against her skin again: "_Hold me closer tiny dancer_."


	6. Chapter 6

Gillian kind of missed London. It reminded her of New York, but New York had horns blaring and sirens screaming. London was a lot more... respectful of the fact that it was dark and people were trying to sleep. It was still busy, alive with people and traffic, but all that artificiality dimmed when the sun was down. Or maybe it was just that she had missed Cal, who had been in London up until yesterday. It was good to have him home. She had no idea how used to being with him she was until he had been gone for several days.

Cal hit the lights in the bathroom and padded across the room in the dark. He found his way easily across his bedroom and jumped on the bed. Gillian was jostled by the movement of the mattress as Cal climbed beneath the covers. As soon as he had settled Gillian turned over to be closer to him.

"Hi," he greeted.

"Hi," Gillian echoed, finding skin and kissing it. It was his neck; warm and smelling clean.

Cal's arm settled over hers, holding her in an embrace against his side; she could feel the warmth of his torso soak around her skin through his shirt. It had been a while since he wore a shirt to bed. Usually they were trying to get naked. "Did you have fun?"

"Fun?" Gillian asked confused. What about this week had warranted 'fun'?" Aside from Cal coming home. That _was_ fun. And then there was them moving in together. Which should have been fun but was actually stressful because there was just too much stuff and no enough space. There were still boxes everywhere. But they were together.

"Talkin' about me behind my back with my old man?" He asked it lightly. Wow he must have been saving up this conversation for a while. Nothing had been fun about watching Cal visit his elderly father in a hospital.

"Mm," Gillian mused lightly, deciding to play on innocence until he revealed what he was talking about in particular. "He told me you used to wet the bed as a child." He hadn't but Gillian didn't know the bed wetting was actually true.

"Find me a kid who didn't and I'll show you a shelta-ed upbringin'."

Gillian wasn't sure if that was a joke or not, whether that was an accurate statement or not and whether this was what he actually wanted to talk about or not. It was certainly thought-provoking and she figured that was merely what Cal wanted, to silence her with something outlandish; to see what she would say next. "Bed wetting is character building then?"

"Nah, whateva caused them to wet the bed was characta buildin'."

"Interesting theory doctor."

"May I change the subject?" He asked politely.

"Please do," Gillian responded dryly.

"About you movin' in."

"Have you changed your mind?"

A bit late considering she'd let her place go and everything she owned was here.

"No I didn't change my mind. I was thinkin'. Bit crowded."

Gillian gave a light laugh. "Yeah." There was that but then there was also something else that was kind of bugging her now. Her place was obviously too small for the both of them plus the occasional Emily. So she had moved in with Cal. But now that she was there... It had got her thinking about things. "I meant to talk to you about that."

"About what?" Cal's tone was suddenly sharp and he felt tense against her. "What about it?" He challenged.

Gillian would have laughed, she would have, and teased, if he didn't seem unexpectedly agitated. He tended to bicker with her at work and then get quiet at home. He sounded a little offended right now and maybe a little tired. Gillian shifted away from him slightly. With her eyes adjusted, she could see most of Cal's face in the poor light and she could guess at the intensity of his gaze, even if she was unable to see it clearly. Why was he so... affronted? What had she said?

"I'm not backing out Cal," Gillian reassured him, taking a stab as to what was bothering him and deciding to cut him some slack. She wondered why he could talk about it but she couldn't. Cal grumped something under his breath she didn't catch. She leaned in to squeeze him tight across his ribs. "All I was going to say was, I've been thinking about how things are and... This is the house you bought with Zoe and this is the house you raised your daughter in, together. I think maybe we could start over. I want to have a place where we start our _own_ memories."

Cal was silent for a moment. What she was proposing was a lot more than just moving in together. She was talking about an entire future. Gillian had to prompt him. "What do you think?"

Beneath her embrace, it felt like Cal sighed. "I think that's fair enough luv," his voice softened and his hand came up to rest over her arm. "I was gonna suggest maybe findin' somewhere bigga," and he sounded less annoyed now he could see they were actually talking about the same thing.

"I'd like for us to buy a place together."

"You wanna go house huntin' with me?" He sounded a little incredulous. Or amused. Mostly amused.

"Yeah," Gillian confirmed. "What do you think?"

"I think... let the games begin!"

Gillian laughed, pleased. "You'd be all right with that? About leaving here?"

"Yeah," Cal agreed. "I think it would be ratha fittin' to _finally_ move on from the old marital home I shared with my _ex_-wife. She sure as shit moved on."

Gillian could hear the bitterness in his voice easily.

"You're right," Cal added.

"Wait, let me get some sort of recording device," Gillian pushed herself to sit.

Cal chuckled good-naturedly and pulled her back down against him. "Calm it down Gill." Gillian laughed a little herself and then he added, "I'll say it again for you in the mornin'. You can get your recorda then. All right?"


	7. Chapter 7

"You're going to run out of room," Gillian mused, watching as her husband ran his fingers over the inked patches of his skin.

"Betta stop havin' kids then," Cal retorted quickly. Gillian shot him a glare. Without looking up or missing a beat Cal noted, "Love how you still think the second one was my fault."

Gillian threw the crust of her toast at him. Cal looked over at her surprised. "Hey!" He complained.

Owen approached the table and pushed a mouthful of half chewed apple into his father's lap. "Ew, Owen," Cal turned his attention to his son. "No, don't give that to me."

Gillian escaped from the table unscathed. She took her plate to the sink and finished her coffee before rinsing out the mug.

"Ok thank you," Cal held out his hand for the last half chewed pieces his son was spitting out of his mouth. It was better than having to pick them up from the carpet.

"Yucky," Owen informed him, turning up his face in disgust and making a claw against his belly. He didn't get the clockwise direction right for the sign, he didn't put any movement in it at all, but it was a start. He put small fingers between his teeth to pick out the last of the fruit.

"Yeah all right," Cal flicked the spittled apple onto his breakfast plate. He found the crust Gillian had heaved just before in a fold of his shirt and put that on the plate too.

"I want!" Owen crooned up at him, toothy mouth in a demanding set, pointing.

"You want my toast?" Cal asked his youngest son, holding up the small over-cooked corner his mother had discarded. Owen reached to grab it. "Please?" Cal prompted, rubbing his hand over his chest in a clockwise direction.

"Pease," Owen echoed, mimicking the sign his father was using, by rubbing his flat hand back and forth.

Cal handed it over and his eighteen month old promptly fisted it into his mouth. "You're welcome," Cal got up and ruffled the boy's bright blonde hair. Owen turned on his heels, throwing out a hand to balance against the table leg. Cal walked around him swiftly, joining his wife at the sink, stepping over the baby barrier that ran along the bottom of the stairs. They'd had to have them custom made as soon as Owen had started moving around on his own; one for each side of the island bench. Gillian was stacking the dishwasher. "Here," Cal handed her his plate with the chewed mouthful of apple in piles of drool. "Traded your crust for fruit."

"Looks like you traded up," Gillian noted dryly. She tipped the plate so the half chewed apple slid into the sink. Cal picked up a pen from the breakfast bar and threw it towards Lewis, who was perched on the couch watching TV. Owen had found something apparently interesting on the carpet to poke with a finger and Cal wondered, after the pen hit his seven year old in the shoulder, what had happened to the rest of the apple. They would probably find it later that day, hidden somewhere in the room.

"Cal!" Gillian reprimanded him as Lewis turned and rubbed his shoulder.

"Five minutes," Cal said and signed to their elder boy. He nodded and turned again to the screen. Owen let out a squeal and Cal saw whatever he had been poking scuttle across the carpet; a spider perhaps or some other small bug.

"You could have hurt him," Gillian gave her husband's shoulder a tap.

"Gonna get dressed," Cal informed her.

"Where's the rest of it?"

"What?" He turned back in the doorway.

Gillian gestured to the sink. "The apple."

Cal gave a shrug and headed upstairs. As he was doing up his fly he heard the thud of Lewis on the stairs and the squeal of Owen coming up to the second level after him. Lewis ran to his room, assumingly under instruction to get dressed. "Cal?"

"Yeah?" He called back and turned to find his wife come into their bedroom with their youngest in her arms. Owen squealed at him. "What are you so excited about?" He asked the boy, finishing with his jeans and walking over to retrieve him so Gillian could get dressed herself. He smelt like toast and baby and his fists grabbed at Cal's clean clothes. Cal immediately wiped the drool from around the boy's mouth with the bib around his neck so he didn't dirty up his father's shirt.

"Arup summit," Owen told him, blue eyes serious.

"All right," Cal agreed. "Shall we get you dressed?" He made a one-handed 'clothes' sign.

"Dess!" Owen pointed to the ceiling.

"All right," Cal chuckled lightly. He left Gillian picking out clothes for herself and headed down the hall in bare feet. Lewis was playing with the Lego blocks on the floor. He had a new pirate ship and was dancing the cabin boy up the rigging like a wee monkey. "Lewis," he called. "Are you gettin' dressed?"

Lewis looked up. "Yep," he agreed. He pressed the cabin boy's feet to the crow's nest and got up. Owen kicked to be put down, a toenail scratching the underside of Cal's arm. He let the boy slide to the ground and he staggered across the room while his father went to his drawers to get a clean shirt and trousers. He dropped them on the changing table and bent to straighten Owen's bed covers. He was fast approaching the age where he should be in a bigger bed. Maybe bunks for the boys. He'd have to talk to Gillian about it. And soon. Owen was going to outgrow the crib.

When Cal turned around again, both the boys were crouched over the pirate ship. Owen had a figurine in both hands and was watching as Lewis simulated locking some bad guy away in the hold. Then Owen lifted his right hand to his mouth and before Cal could intervene Lewis had pounced. With both hands he pried the Lego man out of his little brother's lips. "No Owen," he shook his head. "No don't eat it." He wiped the man on the carpet to get the saliva off. "It could hurt you." He pointed his index fingers together and gave them a twist.

"Ouch," Owen echoed.

"Yeah ouch," Lewis agreed.

Cal approached, his heart beating a little funny. "Come on," he picked up the toddler and swung him to his hip. "Time to get dressed buddy." Lewis also got to his feet and went to his dresser drawers by his bed. Cal sat Owen on the changing table. Owen swung his legs in the air, folded his hands against his knees, scrunched up his shoulders and screwed up his face at his father. Cal watched him amused for a second, wondering what the hell that was about and then proceeded to pry his arms from his body to change him out of the clothes he had slept in.

Cal struggled Owen into a white t-shirt with the yellow and black batman symbol on the front. "Bat bat," Owen scrunched up the logo between his hands.

"Yep," Cal agreed and forcibly lay him back. Owen let out a squeal and squirmed. The toenail scratched the inside of Cal's wrist. "Ow for god's sake," Cal complained. "Doesn't your mutha cut your nails?"

Owen squealed again and turned over to his stomach, lifting himself into a crawling position, while Cal checked his skin for blood, he found a welt. He looked over his shoulder to see what Lewis was doing. He was standing in his underwear picking out shorts. Cal turned back to Owen who was starting to stand. "All right trouble," he reached out to hold on to him so he wouldn't fall. Keeping one hand on the little body at all times, Cal manoeuvred his son's pyjama trouseres down over the lump of the disposable nappy. Gillian had changed him that morning and for whatever annoying reason, Owen always lay down for her.

Owen kicked the trousers away, practically pinching his father's skin as he held on to his forearms. The clothing item fell to the floor and he bent over to see them land. Then he pressed his mouth to his father's skin and Cal felt the firm press of the boy's teeth. He jerked his arm away quickly, before it hurt. Owen looked up at him startled. "No bitin'!" Cal told him sharply, raising his voice. "Ow!" Cal reiterated. "That hurts Daddy! Say sorry." Cal rubbed a first around his chest in a clock-wise direction.

"So-ee," Owen repeated, mimicking that sign too, by pressing a fist against his heart. He lunged forward to give his father a kiss.

Cal gave him a quick cuddle and thanked him for apologising but reiterated he wasn't meant to bite. Then he held open Owen's clean trousers and the boy stepped in to them, one leg at a time, his toes catching on the elastic band making him stumble. By the time they finished dressing Owen, Lewis was already in the bathroom concentrating on brushing his hair in the mirror. Cal smiled to himself as he took the wash cloth and wiped more drool from around Owen's mouth, and a bit of leftover breakfast too. He was eighteen months old but sixteen developmentally and he still had teeth coming through. When every month contained major milestones, the two month difference in his adjusted age was noticeable still, when he was five Cal doubted they would be think about it all too often. He wasn't slow. They didn't worry about him like they had with Lewis.

Cal put Owen in his car seat in Gillian's car, handed him a toy and turned to his brother, making sure the boy got into his booster seat and put on his restraint correctly. Owen offered him his toy and Lewis politely indicated Owen should keep hold of it. Cal closed the door on his eldest son and went to find their mother. Today was meant to be his day for a few hours alone. Next fortnight it would be Gillian's turn. Otherwise they would go crazy.

Gillian was in the kitchen shoving phone and tissues into her handbag. "Hey," she gave him a slight smile as he came in. "Nearly ready."

"Batman and Robin are in the car."

"Ok thanks."

"Sure."

She gripped her keys and turned to him, where he was leaning against the door way of the kitchen. From there he could hear the boys in the car if he needed to. Gillian gave him another smile as she approached. "So. Three hours do it?"

"Yeah I think so," Cal agreed.

Gillian pressed a kiss against his lips. "Don't get into too much trouble," she warned lightly.

Cal gave a slight smirk. "Course."

"And you know, I have..."

"Your phone, I know," Cal interrupted. "If I need you," he added gently, placing a hand on her waist, keeping her in place for a little bit longer. When she didn't pull away he tightened it, so she fell against his chest. And when she still didn't pull away he leaned forward to kiss her.

"Mmm," Gillian hummed. "If I need _you_."

"You can call if you need me," Cal suggested lightly.

"Oh well thank you," Gillian responded tartly. She extricated herself quickly from his embrace. "That's good to know I have permission," she added dryly turning back for her purse.

Cal hid a smirk.

"Which is which?"

"Huh?"

Gillian turned towards him, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Which one's Batman and which one's Robin?"

"Well, Owen has to be Batman doesn't he? Lewis nick-named him."

"Lewis is older," Gillian pointed out with a slightly raised eyebrow. "He might not be too happy."

"Lewis is my little munchkin," Cal countered.

"Probably shouldn't tell him that _either_," Gillian approached where he was standing again.

"He knows he's my munchkin."

Owen called out from the garage. "Natives are gettin' restless," Cal pointed out.

Gillian leaned in for a kiss again. "I meant the little part." Cal nodded that he knew already. "Have fun."

"I will," he responded quickly.

"Don't get..."

"Into trouble," Cal finished. "I know."

Gillian smirked this time, gave him a quick kiss, then stepped around him. "Three hours right?"

"Bye darlin'," Cal called over his shoulder. He stayed where he was until he heard the garage door go down again and then he moved. He whipped off his shirt and rushed upstairs again. He tossed his shirt into the master bedroom as he went by and was undoing his fly as he headed down the hall. In the main bathroom he plugged the bath hole and turned the taps. He shimmied out of his jeans and kicked them to the side. Then he found something smelling like Gillian on the window ledge, high above the boys' reach, and poured a stream of it under the water. The room instantly filled with the scent of vanilla peaches and froth spread out over the surface of water. Cal stripped off the last of his clothes and stepped into the bath. He settled and adjusted the water then leaned back, relaxing.

An hour later, Cal pulled the plug and stepped out. He reached for a towel on the rack, realising then it was Owen's and he had forgotten to bring in his own. Never mind. He had already bathed in Gillian's lotion and now he was drying himself with Owen's scent. Later, he could use Lewis's hair brush just to even it up. Cal padded down the hall to his own room and dressed in clean clothes. He found his wallet and keys and phone and checked for messages; there were none. And then he headed out. He drove down town and found a park easily. That was when the nerves set in.

It was customary to pay before the artist began, which was a bit of a shame really if Cal was unhappy with the work once it was already done. The design was simple enough. Owen was a Scottish name in origin (and Cal would prefer to follow that over the Greek strain seeing as his family had roots in Caledonia) so Cal had found the Gaelic translation for 'miracle'. There was just enough room beneath the Chinese characters for Hope and Fate, and above the rose he had with Emily's birthday, for: mhíorúilt. Gillian wasn't kidding; he was running out of room. The tattoo was done quickly, no more than twenty minutes, and skin stinging slightly and bleeding a little, Cal headed back out into daylight, happy with how it had turned out and looked against the others already there.

Cal checked his watch. He had an hour and a half left. Now what to do?


	8. Chapter 8

"Baby, come and sit with me for a second," Gillian took the four-year-old Lewis by the shoulder and gently guided him to the couch. The taste of Cal leaving that morning was still bitter on her tongue, especially when she'd found his things gone from the spare room and the bed made, like he had never even come home from the hospital in the first place, but she knew she needed to explain to her son. Cal had not and so she was now forced to; he always seemed to be able to do it so much better than she could. She wondered, when or even if, his memories came back, so would the way he was with his son. They had connected when Lewis still just a baby and did that have anything to do with personality? Or was it memory... She was pretty sure she was being entirely foolish thinking anything would merely go back to the way it was.

Gillian had left work early; which wasn't entirely about getting to Lewis as soon as she could, but about escaping the confined spaces where her husband, who had just rejected her, was imprinted on every inch of the building. She had picked up her son from day care and she had brought him home. She felt she needed it, the time with him, to just be; what she had to tell him was going to be tough. She had no idea where to start and a part of her wanted to break down in tears and just beg someone, anyone, to wave a magic wand and make this better again. She didn't know how long she could keep going on alone. Her family told her she wasn't alone but she was. No one could truly comprehend what she was going through right now and the number one person she would turn to wasn't even there and she was wallowing, feeling sorry for herself; that wasn't being strong for her child. She could have a break down later.

Lewis climbed up on the couch and sat on the middle cushion expectantly. His feet dangled over the edge as he waited for his mother to also settle next to him. "Is Dad going to be here?" He started, pointing sharply down.

Thank you Lewis. Perfect lead in.

"No baby," Gillian started gently, shaking her head. She placed an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer against her. He was warm and it was comforting and she still had no idea what she was going to say. How was she meant to explain? Where the hell to even start? She hugged him closer still and then let him go again because he might have to move to be able to see her mouth. He wasn't able to read lips at any advanced level, but seeing her form the words did help with deducing if he missed the occasional sound. "Honey, you know how Dad hasn't been very well?" She used 'sick', a modified 'five' hands near her head, moving it towards her to touch.

Lewis nodded against her chest and turned his head to look up at her. It was also easier for him to understand if his ears were unencumbered. "He had a sore." He used 'hurt'.

"Yes," Gillian agreed. "He has a sore on his head remember?" Gillian used a "G" hand by her head.

Lewis nodded again. "That's cos lot's of bandages." He twirled a finger around his head like a halo to show where they had been.

Gillian showed him the sign for bandage, which was her right "H" hand sliding over the back of her left hand. Lewis mimicked her action and then sat expectantly, waiting for her to go on. So far so... well at least he was following what she was so badly trying to explain. How would Cal do this? "The sore on Dad's head... it's also sore on his brain. You know, when you hit your arm on something and it's a bit sore on top but after a while a bruise comes up under the skin and its sore deep down?" Bruise was 'black', 'blue' and then 'spot on arm'.

Lewis nodded. "Sometimes it hurts lots." He exaggerated a 'hurt' sign.

"Right and it takes a long time to get better." She used 'heal', holding it for a beat longer to show it required more 'healing' than usual.

Lewis nodded again and his eyes lit up a little. He turned his leg to the side to show her the spot where a bruise was still fading out on his calve. "This one was ages."

"That's like Dad's head. He had a sore on the outside but there's also a sore on the inside, on his brain. And it's going to take a long time to heal."

Lewis gave her solemn eyes and nodded. "But Dad's home now so a little bit better." He used 'Dad', 'better' and 'home'.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed. "But sometimes, the sore on Dad's head makes him... still not feel very well."

"I don't like being sick," Lewis offered, bringing a hand to his head and belly and pulling a face while shaking his head.

"No," Gillian agreed. "And I don't like it when you're sick and I don't like it when Dad's sick either."

Lewis shook his head again to show he agreed with what she was saying. "I don't like Dad sick."

"But you know sometimes when you're sick you want to just curl up in bed alone?" She almost added 'and get a lot of sleep' but Cal had already spent a month doing just that. Now he was awake and Lewis was very well aware of that. Lewis considered what she had said for a moment but then nodded. "Dad needs that right now," Gillian added gently. A sudden sob threatened to escape her and she almost didn't force it back down before Lewis saw. No matter how she put it, Lewis would not really understand the ramifications of Cal leaving. Not like Gillian did. He would just think Dad had gone somewhere else yet again to get better and then come back. He always had the hope his father was coming back, because Cal had always been there. Gillian didn't have the same innocence, she wasn't sure, but it was not time yet to prepare Lewis for the fact that his father and friend may never return. How did she explain that to a four year old?

"Is he in bed?"

Gillian paused. Yep, this was really hard. She had no idea how Cal did it. He made it so easy but he had to be thinking of every angle and boiling down to its most simplest form to explain. "You know how sometimes big people have big people problems?" She used 'adult' raising a flat hand above her head; the sign could also mean 'tall'.

"Like that when the car wouldn't go?" He gripped an imaginary steering wheel and shook his head 'no'.

"Yeah," Gillian encouraged. "And you said you'd help me fix it and do you remember what I said?" She brushed the tips of her right hand fingers against the tips of her left hand, then moved her dominant to her forehead, like she was cramming information in there, then opened both hands and turned the fingers up in a 'wh?' question.

"You said it was for big people."

What she had said was, there were some things that Lewis could help with, that there were some things only big people could fix and she had rung Cal to come and get them. Of course now, she couldn't ring Cal to come and make this better.

"Dad needs to get better alone so he's gone to another place to do that." Gillian paused. "But he's going to come and see us and spend some time with us."

Lewis looked a little upset. "But he's still going to be my friend?"

"Yes," Gillian confirmed and it felt a bit like her heart was crying. She pulled him against her and kissed the top of his head.

'_Don't make me a liar Cal_.'


	9. Chapter 9

Gillian put the light out and leaned over her husband to give him a quick kiss, then she snuggled up against his side, pressing her face into his pillow just beside his head. It smelt like his shampoo. "Can we talk?" She asked softly.

"Always with the talkin' in bed."

"You love it when I talk in bed," Gillian responded on a pout. She felt the slight shift, merely sensing it, of her husband's cheek as he grinned.

"That is true," he conceded. His hand shifted to rest on her left thigh. He tightened his fingers a little and then shifted it around the curve and shifted it higher so his palm was resting on a buttock. Gillian's arm shifted so her hand covered over the bare skin of his forearm; the hairs on his arm were soft. He gave her another squeeze. "Go on then."

Gillian shifted her hand, smoothing it over his chest to curl around the edge of his rib. "We've been working together for twenty years now."

"Feckin' balls!" Cal exclaimed, shifting to sit up.

Gillian chuckled to herself as she mimicked his position, leaning on her right elbow. Not that either of them could really see the other.

"Are you kiddin' me?"

"No," Gillian responded easily. "It's been twenty years."

"Did I forget an anniversary?" Cal winced in the darkness.

"No," Gillian reassured him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. Twenty years of working together, fourteen years of being together; she didn't need light to know how he propped himself up in bed when facing her like this. "That wasn't really my point anyway."

"What _is_ your point then luv?"

"We've been working together for twenty years," Gillian started again. "And Owen's starting school in a few weeks."

Cal threw himself back against his pillow, bouncing slightly, jostling the bed. "Yeah. God it's hard to believe. The wee man is off to school."

"I want to do something different," Gillian cut to her point, aware she was leading him around the long way and letting him get distracted.

"Huh?"

She felt his head turn towards her against his pillow. She leaned down again, so she was resting on his chest, her hand under her chin to soften the blow. "I want to do something different now," Gillian repeated.

"With the Group?"

"Maybe. I was actually thinking about... maybe... counselling."

"So not with the Group then." They were both silent for a moment. "So you've obviously thought about it a bit?"

Gillian nodded awkwardly. There was probably no point in watching him avidly when she couldn't see his face, but she was still compelled; after fourteen years she was still compelled.

"Is this to do with Ria?"

Gillian was quiet for a moment. That was answer enough and they both knew, but still, she said, "partly." Because there was more to that story than just a straightforward desire to make the woman feel better after what had happened to her husband. "It's more about wanting to help people Cal. To be there for them." That was why she had gotten into psychology; that and a desire to understand her father.

"And you're there for them so much you're not here for our family."

Gillian took a slow steadying breath. He needed time to process, that was all, she didn't need to immediately launch into an argument with him. What he was hearing right now was not her trying to express she needed a different challenge, but that she was bored. What he was hearing was not that she wanted to branch away from the Group but that she was abandoning him. What he was hearing was not that she wanted to grow their business standing, their material wealth, their reputation, but that she was walking away from their business. "I don't think that's fair."

"I know you Gill," Cal told her sharply. "You find a project and you latch on to it and you just... you... you... you dive in with both feet."

"Like I did with you."

"Yes! That's exactly it. I'm not gonna sit by like Alec and let you go."

"Is this... are you suggesting I would get caught up with another man? Like I did with you?"

"No," Cal nearly scoffed. "Not a... man." The hesitation was slight, but Gillian heard it; this was her territory after all. "I just mean..." He stopped suddenly. "No, neva mind. I don't mean anythin'."

Gillian almost laughed at his abrupt change of tune, but that was just because she was surprised. "What?"

"Nothin'."

"No go on," she urged.

"It makes me sound selfish and petty."

"What's new?" Gillian teased.

"Hey!" His hand came out to grip her.

Gillian laughed. "I'm kidding! Tell me your pettily selfish thought."

"No," Cal pouted. "You'll laugh."

"I won't. Promise."

He sucked in a breath and mumbled: "You'll neglect me and the boys. Which is stupid," he went on quickly. "Cos you work now and it's fine and everythin' but it's just if we're not in the same place I don't know if we can survive it; not seein' you every day."

"You _will_ see me every day. I'm not talking about moving out of the house. The boys will see me exactly the same amount of time. They'll still be in school all day."

"Me then. I like workin' with you Gill. You know that. I've told you that."

"Yes you have and I like working with you too..."

"Then why are you tellin' me you don't anymore?"

"I'm not telling you that. Listen to me..."

"I am listenin'!"

"No," Gillian corrected firmly. "_Listen_."

Cal huffed softly, like he was trying to suppress it and Gillian suspected there could have been an eye roll thrown in there. She waited for him to calm down a little bit more so he would actually listen, not just to the words coming out of her mouth, but the meaning behind them; to listen to what she was actually saying to him. And while she waited she wondered if they could only ever have a conversation in the dark, when neither of them could see the other's face. If she had sat him down for this discussion in daylight, would he react in the same way?

"What you're sayin' is you're bored."

"No," Gillian tried again. "Not bored. But looking to do something different, something more than what I'm doing now. The Lightman Group runs itself and you don't need me to be there and I want to do something... I want to help people. That's why I got in to psychology in the first place and I've put it on hold to be with you, which I loved and don't regret a day of and now I feel it's time to... move forward again. I just want to move forward again."

"Is this because Owen's off to school and your role as a mutha is about to change?"

Sucker-punch from the southpaw.

"No," Gillian tried.

"Come on," Cal coaxed gently.

"No that's not fair," Gillian talked over him. "Maybe the timing is fantastically coincidental but... all right so maybe a little bit of it is Owen and yes, maybe a little of it is to do with Ria as well, but this is what I was doing before I met you Cal. This is what I aimed for since I was seventeen and actually figured out what I wanted to do with my life." She felt Cal sigh beneath her hand. She wasn't leaning her chin on it anymore but was still close against him.

"Tell me again what you want to do?"

"I'm thinking a few days a week..."

"Just a few days?"

"Yes, just a few days. Two." Because Cal did better with certainties. Maybe three days. "Part time. I'll still be home for the boys after school."

"Best laid plans Gill."

And she knew what that meant. She had a tendency for wanting to rescue, for answering calls in the dead of the night, for running after teenagers on the street, coaxing them into a warm shower and a hot meal. And that would cut in to her life at home. But how else was it meant to go? If she didn't care, then who would?

"You do it too Cal," she accused gently. "It's all right for you but not for me?"

Cal was silent for a long moment. "That's a fair point luv."

And then she realised. He was afraid. He was afraid she was going to run off like _he_ used to, get herself into something she couldn't handle, like _he_ used to, and get herself caught up in something dangerous, like _he_ used to; hurt, like _he_ used to. He had changed for her. Not because she had asked him to, but because he had realised that what they had was too important to the both of them for him to screw it up. Didn't mean the universe didn't have other plans for them; head injuries and abductions and two difficult births; a son hard of hearing and the other born two months prematurely. It didn't mean one or the other of them hadn't flipped out and done something stupid. But it meant he had made a conscious decision to choose her. And now it sounded like she was saying she didn't choose him anymore. At least in his mind it did. She got it now.

"But I just..." he stumbled over the words he wouldn't dare say aloud. He wouldn't ever suggest she couldn't handle herself, or compartmentalise, or _really_ neglect her family.

Gillian smoothed her hand over his jaw, curled her fingers around his ear, shifted closer to kiss his lips briefly. "Why? Why are you so afraid?"

"Because I love you. Because I'm _in_ love with you," he added. "Too much."


	10. Chapter 10

"Wakey, wakey."

"Go away."

"Time to wake up."

"Did the alarm go off?"

"Not yet."

"Then it's still sleepy, sleepy."

Cal chuckled. He wormed his way closer to his wife, draping an arm over her diaphragm to hold her tight. He felt her struggle to take a breath but she didn't complain or try to shove him away. He eased up a little and she relaxed in to his shoulder. He kissed whatever part of her he could reach, somewhere in the neck/shoulder region. He felt her hair against his lips and nuzzled his nose in to it; breathing in the smell of her shampoo mixed with the scent of her and felt a tension spark gently in the pit of his stomach. He wanted her. How could she say she was gross? So what that she was squidgy around the edges, as she put it. So what that sometimes she smelt a little of breast milk (or when they had first started fooling around after Owen had been born that her breasts had leaked a little)? Cal wasn't complaining. Far from it. What had happened to his powers of persuasion?

Cal reached up with his hand, Gillian's fingers sliding along his forearm as if she didn't want him to let go, and brushed the hair away from her neck. He opened his eyes to make sure he got it all, then kissed her again, lingering his lips against her skin. She was warm and she smelt so good. His stomach tightened a little more. He should probably back off before he let himself go too far. But if he did, her lack of confidence might grow, she might think he really _didn't_ want her and was just trying to tell her what she wanted to hear. Ugh, sucked to have an insecure Gillian in the house. It was too complicated and Cal was out of practice with playing games. It would wear off. It had been the same with their first baby. It would wear off right?

"Time to get up anyway darlin'," Cal told her gently.

At the end of their bed, in his crib, Owen snuffled in his sleep. The monitor had gone off three times in the night. The nights were the worst. And feeds. But Owen was fine with a little gentle nudging; he had taken up his rhythm again with ease. Still. Cal had woken every time. And Gillian as well, plus she had to actually wake up to feed him in the dead of the morning, which certainly involved more awareness on her part.

Cal heard the handle of their bedroom door and turned his head. Lewis peeked in so Cal gave him a wave to suggest he could come in. The boy pushed the door further open and quick stepped it across the carpet to his mother's side of the bed. "Lewis is here," Cal warned her and she groaned and turned slightly and pried open an eye to find her son standing beside the mattress.

"Hi baby," Gillian mumbled and shifted back to create more room while holding up the blanket to indicate Lewis could climb in next to her. Cal shifted back to make more room and Lewis climbed in to bed and Gillian dropped the blanket over him and they snuggled up tightly together. Cal felt the brush of his son's hand against his side. That felt a bit like a dismissal. He shifted over a bit more, readjusting the blanket so it didn't tent at Gillian's back and let her get cold. He listened for the soft click of the monitor measuring his younger son's breaths and realised that under that, was the soft murmuring of his wife talking to his eldest son. Certainly felt like dismissal.

Cal rolled himself out of bed and pulled on a shirt. He used the bathroom and when he came back he could see Lewis was wrapped up in a bear hug with his mother. Cal wondered again if it was possible to be jealous of his own children. When he leaned over Owen's crib to see if the baby was all right, he was surprised to find the little guy awake, looking up at him, or the mobile above his head. "Hey," Cal greeted him softly, reaching down to slide hands beneath his head and backside. "You're awake?" He whispered bringing his arms in against his body to cradle the boy with one arm; with his now free hand, Cal picked up the monitor. He glanced over at the bed, but nope he was still being ignored, and headed for the door, which was still open.

"You need changin' wee man?" Cal headed down the hall to what was now the boys' bedroom. Or at least it would be once Owen moved in officially. For now, his crib was in his parent's room and everything else was in Lewis's. Cal hit the lights as he entered the bedroom at the end of the hall and put the baby down on the changing table. Owen's legs curled up towards his stomach automatically and he managed to put fingers in his mouth. Even a month ago they had been paranoid about germs. His eyes crossed as he tried to focus on his father's face, even though Cal was too far away for that and Owen didn't have the orbital control to stop his eyes drifting in their sockets. After endless doctor's appointments and check-ups galore, it was easier to relax; couldn't get enough reassurance. His hearing was fine, his eyesight was fine, his immune system was holding its own. The monitor would stay though. After what happened with Lily, the monitor would stay.

Cal reached for a clean nappy and wipes and clothes and stripped Owen down to his undershirt and dirty nappy. He changed his son, congratulating him on actually leaving a deposit this time. Sometimes Owen would go a few days with nothing and that cause a whole new round of concern; his digestion wasn't always the best.

Owen waved a hand in his father's face, kicked his legs and then screwed up his face and started wailing. "What did I do?" Cal asked him, taping down the tabs of the clean nappy. Owen continued to cry as Cal dressed him in a clean light blue onesie. Even when Cal scooped him up in to his arms again the baby didn't quit. Cal moved across the hall, dropping the dirty clothes in the hamper in the bathroom and the nappy into the rubbish on his way out.

Cal pushed back in to the master bedroom and Gillian was already starting to sit up and pick the sleep from her eye and move Lewis beside her and comb her fingers through her hair. Then she held out her arms as Cal reached her side of the bed. "Breakfast time," Cal noted. Gillian took the baby wordlessly and asked Lewis to move further out of the way. "Come here," Cal held out his arms to his eldest son. Lewis got to his knees and opened his arms so Cal could lift him under his shoulders. Lewis wrapped his legs around Cal's waist. He was getting bigger and heavier by the day, it felt. "Shall we have breakfast?" Cal asked him, forgetting what the sign for morning was, but gestured 'eat'.

Lewis nodded. "Eggs," he suggested. He brought 'H' hands together then pivoted them down and broke them apart again.

"All right, eggs," Cal agreed. "Mum do you want eggs?" He called over his shoulder without turning towards her. He started for the door.

"Sure," Gillian's muted reply came.

Cal carried Lewis down the stairs carefully. He couldn't see his feet, so he held on to the rail and took his time. He walked around the living space with the boy still latched on to him like a starfish and had a sudden flash to February, to Owen's birth. It made him grip is son a little tighter as they opened the curtains together, Lewis holding on to the material while Cal walked down the length of the windows and glass sliding doors. After that, Cal sat Lewis on the bench and instructed him to crack the eggs open in to a bowl. Cal added salt and pepper, cheese, a little paprika, nothing too exciting because Lewis wouldn't eat it. Then he moved Lewis and the eggs to the other bench, next to the stove top and showed him how he was going to heat the skillet and put the eggs in when the pan was hot.

"Cal!"

Cal turned his head towards the kitchen door to listen for more but there was nothing. "What!" He yelled back. He turned to his eggs again while he waited for a reply.

"Caal!"

Cal's head whipped around this time, focussing on the doorway. He expected to see Gillian coming down the stairs but he knew with a sense of dread already that there was something wrong. Something was wrong. He twisted the gas off and dropped Lewis heavily to the floor and raced for the stairs. He pounded up them two at a time. "Cal!" Gillian called again as he rounded the corner and her voice sounded fearful and that just fed Cal's panic. He reached the top landing, aware somewhere in the back of his mind that Lewis had followed him up, and found Gillian, with Owen limp in her arms and tears on her cheeks. "I can't," she spluttered. "He won't."

Cal took the baby as he was passed over. The monitor was sounding its alarm and Cal felt the panic creep through his body. Owen was staring up at him, bordering on blankly. It was like he was checking out, but hadn't quite gone yet.

Cal strode in to their bedroom, why he didn't know, jigging Owen in his arms. The boy didn't respond. He shifted him upright and gave his shoulder a squeeze. That didn't work either. So he tapped the bottoms of his feet and when that didn't work he felt his chest tighten harder than before. He put Owen down on the bed, aware that in the background Gillian was crying, wailing, saying something he couldn't understand. Cal pulled Owen's onesie off to get to bare skin. He tapped the bottom of his feet again and picked him up, trying to keep his airway open. The monitor continued its alarm and Cal could feel Gillian's hand on his arm; he could hear her freaking out.

"How long?" Cal grunted, shifting Owen again, trying to unsettle him back into breathing. The monitor fell to the floor, taught on its wires.

"I was feeding him and..."

"How long!" Cal repeated louder.

"A-a-a-a about a minute."

_Fuck._

Cal turned the baby over roughly. Owen was not responding at all now. They were going to have to call for paramedics. He would open his mouth to tell Gillian to do it but he felt the urge to throw up. He clamped his mouth shut tighter. _Please God no._ Cal shifted Owen up-right again, holding his chin between his thumb and finger; he was so small. He wanted to shake him, to beg him to stop it, to come back, to not do this to them; Cal wanted to hit him. He was going to have to start baby CPR. _Don't shake him._ Cal rested Owen against his chest, keeping a hold of his head. Gillian was wringing her hands, crying; Lewis was somewhere behind them, Cal could feel him there watching silently.

Cal freed a hand and pinched the soft skin of Owen's thigh between his finger nails. He did it hard. He had no idea what compelled him. He gave the skin a hard twist and Owen twitched against his torso. His head came up and he opened his mouth and he sucked in a short breath before letting it out and then another, longer, deeper one. And then he wailed and Cal sank to the floor and he was aware of Gillian pulling the little body from his arms. He let the baby go and sat back against the bed, feeling like he was shaking all over. Owen screamed louder and louder as he worked himself up and Gillian sobbed and cooed, pressing kisses against his head, dragging the monitor along the carpet as she paced; it was silent now.

And then cold little hands against Cal's head. He looked up and there was Lewis, in his batman pyjamas, forcing his way into his father's lap. He put his arms around Cal's neck and clung on silently. Cal wrapped his arms around the smaller body, noting, he wasn't so small anymore. Not like Owen was small. He smelt like sleep, while Cal smelt like fear. He was sticky with a panicked sweat but Lewis was cool and grounding him, letting his father anchor himself again.

This was exactly why the monitor was staying.


	11. Chapter 11

"Come in Kent," Gillian gestured from the couch. Owen had just been fed and he was content in her arms, barely awake and more than likely about to drift off to sleep. His eyes fluttered, dark lashes framing blue eyes as they fell closed again. Gillian couldn't wait to see what colour they would settle on. Her blue or Cal's grey. It would be nice to have one of each.

Kent waved a hello to her and she smiled and indicated he should take a seat next to her. He did, Cal trailing along behind them, Lewis in his arms. Their eldest was having a hard time figuring out where he stood, where any of them stood, now that Owen was home. People dropped by to see the baby all the time, and it wasn't just about Lewis not being the centre of attention anymore. It was hard for all of them, knowing what to do now that Owen was home. There was a lot of waiting around for the worst to occur so they could act as promptly as possible. Owen still wore the bruise on his leg from where his father had pinched him, trying to bring him back from the worst spell of apnoea yet.

Yesterday Lewis had got home from day care just in time for Owen's first pointless cry. At first he was the concerned big brother, asking if he could do anything to help, then making suggestions that maybe Wen was upset because his diaper nappy (he couldn't decide what to call it, seeing as his parents insisted on referring to it by both names) was wet, or maybe his tummy was empty, or maybe he needed a nap; because sometimes when Lewis got upset it was because he was tired, Dad told him so. But no, Gillian had already tried those things and she figured it was just Owen's first extended crying period and so she merely tried to soothe the baby as best she could while Lewis walked around the house with his hands over his ears and winced at the noise his little brother was making.

Gillian asked Kent how he had been since she saw him last and he nodded and signed that he was 'fine'. He asked after her and she said the same. He asked after Owen and Gillian nodded again. "Do you want a hold?" Gillian asked the young man once he was settled. She couldn't sign with her arms full of a baby, but she knew he could read her lips. He looked a little unsure. "Go on," she coaxed, already reaching out to hand the baby over. Cal took a seat on the coffee table in front of them, Lewis in his lap. Gillian shifted Owen to Kent's arms, adjusting the blanket he was swathed in so his face was clear, making sure the monitor was still close by, making sure his neck was supported and his airway was open; and yes, he had gone to sleep, perfect for guest cuddle time.

When she looked up again, Cal had a soft expression on his face, a bit like the first time they'd seen their first baby on a sonogram. And Gillian suddenly realised just how much Kent meant to Cal. She might not know all the details about Kent's family situation or his childhood, or who he was close to, but she did know, from meeting him in the hospital several years ago, that he had been lonely, and now, maybe not so much. If Cal had anything to do with that then Gillian was incredibly proud of him. By the look on his face, it there was a really good chance he had.

Gillian got up, giving her husband's shoulder a gentle squeeze as she went by. He barely glanced up at her. He had been a lot more protective since that really bad spell of apnoea. So had she. Maybe it would fade when the bruise was no longer there to remind them. She caught the wave of Kent's hand as he signed something but she left the boys to it; all the boys. She would probably get a report from Cal later about how it had gone. And she might just ask about Kent a whole bunch more too; try to get to know him.

Cal watched Gillian head out of the room and then focussed back on Kent's hand. He was gushing, bless the young man, about how sweet Owen was, how 'beautiful'. Then he finger-spelled Owen's name with a questioning gesture: Owen what? Cal slowly signed out 'Michael'. Kent nodded again; his approval.

"Dad?" Lewis suddenly perked up.

"Yeah buddy?" Cal turned his attention to the almost-five-year-old.

"Do I have another name?"

"You sure do. It's 'Guy'." He spelt it out for Lewis to see.

"What guy?"

"No, that's a name," Cal corrected him, tapping the edges of his fingers against each other. "That's your name. Lewis Guy Lightman."

"Oh," Lewis responded with a thoughtful expression. "And Owen's name is Michael?"

"Yes."

"I like that name." He brought his hand away from his chest, bending his middle finger so the tip was against his thumb.

"Me too."

"Who picked that name?"

"Well your Mum picked Owen and I picked Michael." Cal could see out of the corner of his eye that Kent was following along the conversation.  
>"And what was Lily's name?" Lewis asked innocently.<p>

"Her middle name?" Cal stalled. What was Lily's middle name? His mind drew an alarming blank. He could feel it there, a block... Gillian had left the room so she was going to be no help.

"Yes," Lewis nodded, waiting patiently.

"It was..." Almost there... it was right on the edge... "Kiera."

"That's like Kiera!" Lewis responded wide eyed.

"That's exactly right," Cal agreed with a nod. "Because, remember? Kiera was Lily's mum."

Lewis turned in his father's lap to face Kent. "Kent what's your name?" He pointed to the young man and tapped his fingers on the edge of the others. Cal suspected he had been dismissed, so slipped Lewis to stand on his own feet and got up. The boy climbed up on the couch carefully next to the baby and Kent. And then Cal realised as he got to the breakfast bar, he couldn't exactly leave the room could he? He couldn't leave a deaf man and a hard of hearing boy with an audible alarm. That could be seriously asking for trouble. It was tense enough as it was right now.

Gillian smoothed a hand over the back of his shoulder as he stood by the sink. "What's on your mind?" She murmured, pressing a kiss against his temple.

Cal turned to her with a softer expression than the thoughts in his head. "Silly stuff."

"Hm."

"We should invite Em and Ajay ova for dinna sometime. Now that Owen's more... settled."

"Definitely," Gillian nodded, smoothing her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

"Want her here a bit more."

Gillian nodded.

Cal put an arm around her. "Want our family to stick togetha."

Gillian's face fell a little and Cal could see all the worry there from the other day. Owen nearly died. That was the closest they had ever got to him checking out on them and it brought back uncomfortable memories of Lily, without Lewis even having to bring her up. "Me too."


	12. Chapter 12

"This is so nice!" Gillian gushed as Cal put the car in to drive and headed up the street, pulling away from their house. "We _never_ get away alone." And by alone she meant specifically: sans children.

"I know," Cal agreed. Precisely why he had organised that they go out for dinner. Alone. Sans children.

"That's why you suggested this huh?"

Cal gave her a quick grin, 'yes', and turned back to the road. Gillian gave an indulgent smile that he didn't see and shifted in her seat so she could lean on his arm; hugging it. Cal shifted his hand to hers and gave it a squeeze. Gillian rested her head on her husband's shoulder and they drove in companionable silence to the restaurant. Cal had picked it out. In fact, he had planned the entire evening and had merely warned her about Saturday night and asked her to get dressed up. He had even organised the boys and the baby sitter. Bless him. Gillian laughed to herself suddenly.  
>"What?" Cal prompted as he turned the engine off. "Do I smell funny?"<p>

Gillian laughed again. "No," she turned her face towards him, pressing her nose against his shoulder. "You smell good," she murmured. She pressed a kiss against his collar bone, over his shirt.

"Why were you laughin' then?" He looked at her and sounded offended.

"Because I think like you."

"Oh do you now?" Cal asked, his voice high with amusement.

Gillian gave him a nudge with her shoulder. "Not like that. In my head, I was thinking about how sweet you were for setting this all up and I added a 'bless you' which is something that you always say."

Cal chuckled. "Keep goin' with the sweet part."

Gillian gave him another nudge. "Shall we go in?"

"Yeah go on," Cal agreed, reaching to unclip his seatbelt as his wife moved away from him. She took his hand again as she stepped up on the side walk. Cal pulled her close against him as they strolled slowly along.

"What time do we have to be back?"

"Nope," Cal stopped walking suddenly, pulling back on her hand to make her halt too. In these heels, she was just slightly taller than him. Not that he cared. He never had. It wasn't a weird mis-match, his wife being taller than he was. "No talkin' about the kids or work all right? Specially not the kids. This is you and me time." He almost whined but held it together. He stepped closer, pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, felt her warm response. "You and me," he murmured. "You know," he encouraged.  
>She nodded against the press of their foreheads. "I know."<p>

And Cal wondered if she did. She was the one to come to him requesting that every so often they make just a little bit of effort for their marriage's sake; so that it didn't get stale. This was his first grand gesture. He hoped she understood that, recognised it for what it was. Not that he was just out to earn himself brownie points, absolutely not. What he was trying to say was 'it's important to me too'.

Cal gave her another quick kiss and started walking again, tugging her along until she quick-stepped to prevent it. Her hand was warm in his and he felt a little pang of loss when he had to let it go to let her into the restaurant and slip out of her coat. But really, he considered that a good thing. He wanted to feel warm when she was near, and seek out the scent of her when they were close, and be disappointed when he couldn't hold her hand anymore, or grouch about getting out of bed in the morning, not because he had to get up and start the day, but because he had to roll away from her. He _wanted_ to be _in love_ with his wife. He _was_ _in love_ with his wife. And she was right, that took work to keep up.

They sat and ordered wine and then they were left alone. Cal glanced at Gillian's hand on the table top. Her wedding ring flashed in the light as she fidgeted with the edge of her menu. She was telling him something. Oh shit and he was so not listening.

"Cal?"

"I'm sorry luv," he looked up and met her eye.

She gave him a slight smile, her blue eyes dark in this light, but flashing with amusement or flattery. "You were staring."

Cal shook his head a little. "Yeah, sorry, what were you sayin'?"

"I was saying, I've heard good things about this place."

"Oh yeah?" Cal raised his eyebrows in nonchalance, but inside, he was pleased. He had done right. "From who?"

"A friend," Gillian leaned forward on the table. Cal glanced down her front. She clasped her hands together and the light caught her ring and Cal glanced at that too.

"You look amazin'."

Gillian gave him a smile. "Thank you. I'm glad we did this."

Cal returned her smile. "Me too," he repeated. It was just dinner... but still... "Course, you know what year it is, don't you?"

Gillian's smile didn't fade. "Um, twenty twenty-one."

Cal almost rolled his eyes.

"Are you ready to order?" A waiting staff member asked politely, delivering their wine glasses. Cal thought they should have just gone for it and got the bottle.

"Oh we haven't even looked," Gillian gave the young woman a smile. "Give us five minutes?"

"Not a problem," the waiter smiled politely in return and moved on again.

Gillian tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her wedding ring catching the light again and Cal, a moth to the flame. When her hand came back to her menu to open it Cal reached across to grasp her fingers. She looked up at him, a little startled and Cal hoped that had nothing to do with the hand-holding in general and just because she had not seen him coming.

"This year," Cal tried again. "I don't rememba when, sorry. Maybe you do?" Gillian raised an eyebrow and waited. "You and me. We met twenty years ago."

Gillian's lips twitched. "You remember that?"

Indignant: "I've not forgotten everythin'."

"You know, I don't really remember either," Gillian mused lightly, squeezing his fingers slightly. "I mean, I remember the day but not what time of year it was."

Cal watched her face but it seemed to be the truth and he was only interested in her facial cues, not because he thought she might lie, but just in case she felt the need to tell him a white one to save his ego. Ok so he _was_ checking to see if she was lying but not because he didn't trust her, he just didn't want her to remember something from _their_ life that he didn't.

"Must have been the Fall?" Gillian mused, rubbing her thumb over the back of her husband's hand. "It was cold a few months later."

"Hm," Cal agreed.

"I remember the moment I first say you," Gillian leaned forward and lowered her voice as if this were a secret. "And I remember being so mad at you."

Cal grinned. "I remember thinkin' you were incredibly beautiful."

"You did not," she scoffed. "You barely gave me a second glance."

"Self-preservation."

Gillian gave him an unimpressed expression. She still had ideas about neat tidy feelings and what was inappropriate. "So we're celebrating?" Gillian leaned further forward but her voice gained its normal volume again.

Cal gave a slight smile. "Yeah." He reached back for his wine and raised it. Gillian clinked her glass against his gently, all smiles tonight, so many beautiful smiles. They sipped, Cal sighed. "Have I mentioned you look amazin'?"

"You have, but keep going," Gillian responded with yet another smile.


	13. Chapter 13

Cal slouched so low on the couch cushion his ass was basically hanging off the edge and he was almost horizontal, with his legs propped up on the table in front of him. On the stereo was what was turning in to the soundtrack of his life with Gillian and Lewis and now Owen; all Elton John songs; Benny Taupin was a true poet. Cal figured the blow to the head must have turned him in to a right sap. Or Gillian. On second thought, if it was Gillian, he might not mind so much. The baby monitor was by Cal's ear, so he could hear it over the music, and Gillian was out having her 'Gillian' time, Owen was having a nap and so was Lewis. Or he was meant to be. He clearly wasn't or had woken up, because he slipped in to the room and wandered casually around the couch and took a seat silently next to where his father was slouched.

Cal left it a second, then just as nonchalantly, looked over at his five year old son. His eyes roved over the boy's face, mussed hair, hearing aids on, and deduced the boy _had_ probably been asleep, and was now awake again. A half hour nap was pretty good for a kid his age. Especially when he was under the illusion he no longer needed a break in the day time. Gillian had lain down with him just so he could 'rest' and as soon as he had fallen asleep she had bailed, telling Cal he was officially on babysitting duty as she had rushed out the door. She was having 'big' person time in town and Cal was, or had been, having 'big' person time alone in the 'big' person lounge.

"What are you up to darlin'?"

"I like this song," Lewis noted, sweeping his right hand in a curve along his left arm.

"This is _Your Song_," Cal noted.

"For me?" Bright blue eyes turned to him. Lewis leaned over his father's head, staring hypnotisingly into his eyes, pointing at his chest.

"That's the name of the song," Cal corrected, looking up at his boy: 'name', 'song'. Lewis nodded. "Wanna hang out for a bit?" He signed 'spend' and 'time'. "While Owen's asleep and Mum's gone out?" Lewis nodded again and abruptly shifted so he was lying, curled on the other couch cushion, in a little ball like a kitten. His head rested against his father's and he tilted his jaw to plant a kiss against Cal's temple. Cal felt a smile on his mouth and the warmth of his son close by; sweet kid.

They lay in silence for a while and then Lewis shifted around a bit and Cal could smell his shampoo. The room fell quiet as the song changed. Cal strained his ears at the baby monitor, checking he could hear the soft click of the machine registering every breath his other son took. He fought down the urge to go up and check on him anyway. Cal spent a fair amount of time trying to convince his wife that the kid was fine and that they needed to stop being so paranoid, that it wouldn't be healthy for them and it would teach Lewis that there was something wrong, something to be afraid of; something that warranted more time and importance than him. Not to mention the fact that Owen could very well grow up with a hang up. Cal said all kinds of things to Gillian to try and get the both of them to relax a bit more; if he said it aloud to her, then he had to act the same way otherwise he'd be a hypocrite. Owen had been home for months now. They had to let go eventually. Or drive themselves in to a grave chasing something unrealistic.

"Dad?"

"Yeah munchkin?" Cal reached for the remote by the monitor and turned the music down even more. He felt less tense about Owen's baby monitor that way, and Lewis would be able to hear him better with a little less background interference.

"What's that thing there?" His smaller hand came into his father's peripheral vision and pointed. Cal shifted his gaze to see where Lewis was indicating. At his feet. Cal raised his head a little to see better. What _was_ Lewis pointing at?

"Oh that's a... uh..." Cal shifted so he slid off the couch and was sitting on the floor. He lowered his legs from the table one by one so he could reach forward to take the statuette off the coffee table and show it to the five year old up close. It was a wooden carved figurine of a rain god from the time he was in Indonesia, so long ago. It was about the length of Cal's hand and had a wicked carved mask. "This is a rain god," Cal turned his head to his son to make sure he could be heard and raised an open hand then dropped it down gently so it was parallel to the floor. He handed it over to the boy, who sat up to inspect it closer. The 'big' person lounge was out of bounds to the boys and often the door was closed to reinforce that notion and the only times they were allowed in was when an adult was with them. This was where the truly precious possessions came to see out their days.

"I like this," Lewis made a quick sign, then ran his finger in the grooves of the face and down the chest of the stunted god.

"Me too," Cal agreed.

"What's a rain god?"

"Well, some people believe it's a more powerful bein' that will make it rain durin' their crop season." Cal didn't know the sign for 'god', nor did he know how to make the concept out of the signs he knew. Lewis looked a little blank and Cal wasn't that surprised. He and Gillian didn't tend to have conversations about religion with their boys. Or crops for that matter.

"But if you have it then how will it rain?"

Cal chuckled and turned so he was leaning his side against the couch and could face his son. "It's not the actual god Lew, it's a replica. Like when you take a photo of somethin', it's just a copy." He grouped the fingers of his right hand into the palm of his left and then moved them up and away from himself.

"Is the actual god this big?" Lewis seemed dubious.

"Uh not really. This is a mini-version that you can put in your house." He used 'little'.

"So it will make it rain?" He looked out to the yard as if he expected the sky to suddenly open up and drench their garden.

"It doesn't _actually_ make it rain. It's just that, there's a group of people in the world that believe if they pray to this god," Cal indicated the small statuette. "That he will hear them and be able to make it rain when they need it." He tapped his ear twice.

"What's praying?" Lewis used the 'wh?' question gesture.

"It's when you focus really hard in your mind like you're talkin' to someone who isn't there but hope they can hear you."

Lewis gave him a bemused frown.

"Yeah," Cal agreed. Perhaps the concept of something more powerful that was also rather abstract was too hard to explain. He didn't want his kids to believe in something just because. His mother had been like that and it had never made any sense to Cal at all. Even when they used to go to church and pray before bedtime when he was very little, he remembered thinking it was silly. He didn't know who he was meant to be talking to. Who was even listening? "Some people believe that works."

"Who do you pray to?"

"I don't pray," Cal shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Cos I don't need any rain," Cal quipped but Lewis's face went thoughtful again, taking the response seriously. "I don't believe in prayin'," Cal clarified.

"Can I pray for rain?"

"No," Cal interrupted him. Was this far too heavy a conversation for a five year old? Maybe. Cal remembered something else from his childhood, something he promised himself he wouldn't do if he had kids of his own, something he _had_ in fact done to Emily, despite that vow: he didn't want to shut down a conversation because it was awkward or because he thought Lewis might not understand. If the kid asked, Cal was going to answer as best he could. Had their conversation about babies not gone the exact same way?

"The thing is," Cal started again. "I don't pray because I don't believe there are otha more powerful bein's out there that control things like the rain or..." he stopped. He almost said 'who lived and died' but he was thinking of a whole bunch of different religions all at once and then there were aliens and then there was Lily. Geeze this was hard.

"And," Cal went on. "Even if there were, I don't think prayin' would have any influence ova these powerful gods to do anythin' for us." Because he _had_ read things, a lot of things, that suggested there were forces out there bigger than he was. Even Einstein believed there had to be a god or some force bigger than human because the universe was put together far too perfectly for there to be coincidence. But that didn't mean the physicist was talking about any of the religions known to man. And Cal was maybe inclined to believe there _was_ something else, but he certainly felt no affinity to any world religion and how did he explain all of that to a five year old?

"Do you undastand?" He raised his hand by his head, the back facing Lewis, and flicked his index finger up.

"My friend Harry says there's a god." Lewis signed 'friend' and finger-spelled 'Harry'.

"And do you believe him?" Believe was an index finger by the forehead, then brought down to grip the left hand, palm to palm.

Lewis thought for a moment. "I haven't seen it," he shook his head.

"Me eitha."

"So there isn't a god?"

"Do we have to see somethin' to believe in it?"

Lewis screwed his mouth up as he thought. "Like... magic?" He opened his hands with the fingers pointing down and moved them around in a little circle together before directing them to the side, like he had cast a spell.

"Yeah."

"But there's magic on TV."

"Yes there is," Cal agreed. And that was a _whole_ other conversation for later. "But what about in real life?" He used 'real', his index finger against his lips, brought forward and down a few inches.

"I couldn't see Owen in Mum's tummy but he was in there."

That was a good one. And wholly crap! Did that just come out of his _five_ year olds mouth!

"That's very true," Cal responded, nodding, impressed. "So maybe, just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there." He used 'see' and shook his head.

"I never seen Santa," he mimicked having a long beard. "And he still brings presents." He used two curved index fingers and moved them to the side.

"Also true."

"And the tooth fairy!" Lewis enthused, tapping his front teeth, clearly reaching a point of understanding.

"That's also true," Cal nodded. Lewis gave him the carved wooden statue. There was a similar one right at the back of Cal's dresser which was a male fertility god, complete with overly large penis and all... and well Gillian had gotten pregnant twice against odds so maybe... Maybe Cal did believe in something. He had to believe in a Miracle didn't he?

"So maybe the rain god is real?"

"Maybe," Cal agreed. Maybe.

"But we just don't know cos we don't see him."

"Sure."

There was a moment's silence as the CD ticked over to the next track. Cal leaned forward to put the statuette back on the coffee table.

"Dad?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Can I pray to god?"

"If you want to," Cal relented, signing 'want'. "But Lewis, there is nothin' in the history of man to suggest god, any god, has eva listened to prayers." He looked his son in the eye and shook his head.

"Oh," Lewis looked thoughtful again. "I'm gonna go try." He used 'S' hands against his chest, then moved them outwards. He pushed himself up from the sofa cushion and wandered off again. Cal watched him go, not sure what had happened or whether he should just tell his son 'no' and be done with it. Religion, gods, the universe, all of it was such a long lifetime of conversation. Cal had his beliefs and he knew Gillian had hers and they were mostly in sync but they weren't quite the same and did that mean, as parents, they should tell their son what was what based on theirs? Or let him come to his own conclusions. And could he decide now, or when he was older? And should they stop him if he invested his beliefs in something Cal considered ridiculous?

"Hey," Gillian's voice called from across the room. Cal turned his head but could only see the back of the seat he was leaning against. "Cal?"

"Yeah I'm in here," he confirmed.

Gillian appeared around the couch. She had shopping bags in her hands; clothes. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Talkin' to your son about religion."

Gillian put her bags on the table and perched on the edge of the seat Lewis had just vacated. "And how did that go?"

Cal gave a slight wince as he looked up at her. "You know? I'm not really sure."

"What did you tell him?"

"I have no idea," Cal sighed.


	14. Chapter 14

"Where are we going?" Gillian just about whispered against the skin of Cal's neck as she leaned on his arm and they walked along the street. The air was frigid to the point of uncomfortable and it choked at her lungs until she adjusted as they strolled slowly along. Snow was coming down in swirling flurries but despite all that Cal had insisted they go out. Gillian had gloves on and she had reached for his bare hand and he had tucked both inside the large pocket of his black pea coat; plenty of room for two. He had a knitted red scarf around his neck, that matched the colour of Gillian's coat, and a dark blue beanie shoved down over his ears. Gillian had a scarf too and now she wished for a woollen hat of her own; she didn't think it would be so damn cold!

The snow had just started half an hour ago. As soon as Cal had spotted it he had leapt up from the couch and demanded they go for a walk. He muttered something about going out to enjoy the first snow fall of the season but whatever excuse he gave, Gillian was starting to believe it was sheer lunacy that motivated him and meant she followed. Cal nudged her with his elbow as they headed down the damp sidewalk; it looked like it had just rained, technically it was.

"Just to the park," Cal answered finally.

'_What was so great about the park_?' Gillian thought to herself. The snowflakes fell on her nose and eye lashes and she giggled as she thought of movie lyrics and winter wonderlands.

"What's funny?" Cal nudged her again.

Her nose was attuned to the warmth of him and his scent, kind of... musky, she supposed; she knew from now on she would not only associate snow with fairy lights and Christmas, like she had since she was a child, but with the scent of her boyfriend. Her boyfriend. Her heart leapt to think of it. They were official now. They were out and everyone knew and it had been a year since they had succumbed to a kiss in his darkened office, which had snowballed, excuse the pun, into this.

Gillian turned her head and kissed his neck again, just beneath his jaw, which was already rough with stubble, even though he had started to shave regularly. She knew why. He had made it clear why and her body flushed a little with the memory of him between her thighs telling her exactly why he had started shaving regularly. There was nothing like it, he had told her, than smooth skin against smooth skin. Gillian shivered a little with thoughts of him and the smell of him and just... him.

"Nothing," she answered him. "I'm being a girl."

"Hmph," Cal offered in response. His fingers tightened on hers and he turned his head to gaze at her, his stride faltering to a stop as turned and brought his other hand up behind her shoulders. He pushed her gently towards him while he leaned in to kiss her. His lips were cold and it was chaste to the point of disappointment.

"How much further?" Gillian shivered and it wasn't from the cold.

"Not far," Cal told her softly; they both knew she knew exactly where the park was. His blue eyes swept over her features and he gave a slight smile; that sweet, endearing smile that was just for her. It was his way of saying 'I love you' without the use of words. In this case though, he might have been saying 'thanks for indulging me'. He brought cold fingers against her cheek, brushing away melting frozen rain and then turned and tugged her back against his side.

Gillian kept her gaze up towards the sky as she walked, watching the way the flakes danced on the breeze under the street lights; like sugar plum fairies. Even if they were going to the park so Cal could show her a dead duck the walk would be worth it. She was freezing cold and her hair was damp with snow but it was magical. The houses were draped in twinkling white lights and the sidewalks reflected back the stars and her boyfriend was warm against her side. The world was magic like this and she felt excited inside to be alive; life was good, great, perfect about now.

Cal could hear the grunt of engines on the air and knew they were close. Gillian hadn't cottoned on to exactly what they were doing right now and out of the corner of his eye he could see her constantly looking up at the sky. Her capacity for bright happiness made him smile. He could get used to this, to making her erupt into content little sighs merely by suggesting a walk in the first snow fall of the year. Who knew it would be so magic for her? He wished for a little of her enthusiasm to rub off on him. He could do with feeling that joy. He wondered what it felt like inside, to be carefree like she was... to be happy like she was. He caught glimpses of it within him, moments like these helped, but it wasn't his normal and he wanted Gillian to be that for him; his normal. He had a feeling, now that he was in this, waist deep with her, that she would.

She wasn't even complaining about how cold it was. He would be, if it hadn't been his idea to head out in the first place. They crossed the road and stepped up on the footpath of the other side and ahead of them was the open expanse of the park and people and great plumes of ice being shaved in to the air with chainsaws. Gillian turned to him with another excited grin. Her cheeks and nose were red and her hair was starting to wave with the wetness of the air but her blue eyes sparkled addictively. She didn't say anything, she didn't have to; the silent conversation passed between them. '_You knew about this?_' '_I thought you'd like it._'

Gillian removed their hands from his pocket, pulling him along as she quickened her pace to check out the first sculpture. There was a crowd standing around watching as a man scraped a chain saw blade against a block of ice; he was just starting. Gillian moved on quickly and Cal barely kept up. The next man was carving a groundhog sitting on top of a log, the next one over was a woman making a snowman. Gillian stopped to marvel at the swan for a moment, letting Cal catch his breath. There was so much cold precipitation in the air his lungs were having a hard time.

"So beautiful," Gillian murmured and her voice was almost lost in the squeal of little girls in pink hats and scarves and coats.

"You know they do this every year," Cal noted.

Gillian turned to him, her lips a dark crimson red. "Do they? I've never heard about it."

"There was a leaflet in your box," Cal informed her.

Gillian gave him a slight frown, as if she were in amused disbelief, "Did you go through my mail?"

"I saw it on the bench before you put it in the bin." Cal saw the information click in her mind. That was how this ice sculpting display had slipped under her radar; she had been too quick to throw away the junk mail. This was only her second year in the neighbourhood anyway. Maybe last year she wasn't able to pay too much attention.

Gillian linked her arm through Cal's and they turned to wander slowly down the row again. At the end Gillian stopped and looked up at the great silver stream against the black of the sky. The sculpture was working on an angel; there had to be one at least amongst the bunch. Great wings already protruded from the six foot tall block of ice and a mournful face tilted to rest against the left shoulder. Hands were just under the chin, pressed together in prayer or parley. The detail was incredible; Cal could see sorrow in the eyes, a hint of tears on a delicate cheek. The ice, once it had been shaped was translucent and the sculpture, a middle aged man, in jeans, grey jacket and grey hat, kept to himself, ignoring or merely not aware of the crowd gathered around him.

Gillian rested her head on Cal's shoulder again and he felt her sigh gently. Cal watched the ice flying away from the chained blade, reflecting light into the darkness. Flood lights were pointed at the angel, making her seem almost liquid under their gaze, like some CGI lady of the lake. If there had been a lake nearby Cal would have taken Gillian ice-skating.

"It's beautiful," Gillian noted again.

"Yeah," Cal agreed.

"I'm glad you found this and dragged me out here."

"Such a way with words," Cal teased back. He felt a squeeze of Gillian's hand somewhere against his side and flinched a little. Nearby a baby started to cry and Gillian's head turned and Cal saw the longing in her eyes. It made his heart sink a little to see and resolved himself to trying to make her happy in any other way. Cal turned so they were facing each other and wrapped both arms around her, placing another quick kiss on her cheek, drawing her back in to him. She smiled pleasantly and pushed her arms inside his coat to hug him back. She felt cold at first but quickly warmed and she rested her head against his shoulder once more, this time at the front of it; her head turned so she could watch the robes of the angel take place; the sculpture switched off the chainsaw and reached for another tool. Cal kissed the top of Gillian's head, then sealed over the spot with his cheek, letting it absorb.

They stood for at least five minutes before Cal started to think he couldn't feel his toes anymore and just as he was preparing to interrupt the silent observing Gillian straightened up and gave him a slightly apologetic expression. "I'm an icicle," she announced.

Cal gave her a grin. "Me too. We can come back tomorrow and see the finished ones," he took her hand and they turned. "Let's go home and warm up."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Gillian gave him a solicitous grin.

Cal's lip turned up in amusement. "Cocoa of course."

"Of course," Gillian mused as they started a slow stroll again, heading in the direction of her home. "And maybe a bath."

"Could definitely go for a bath," Cal agreed.

"Or, you know, we could put the two together."

"Now you're thinkin'."


	15. Chapter 15

Gillian stirred in her sleep and wondered why she was awake, just like she did every time she was woken in the dead of the night. She must have heard something... And then she realised how freaking warm she felt and how her stomach was about to convulse on her and she whipped back the covers and headed around the bed and for the bathroom. In the dimness of the light coming through the bathroom window she bent over at the waist and aimed for the toilet as her stomach heaved, and hoped in the morning, when she came back in to check, she hadn't missed and made a massive mess; that would just turn her stomach sour even more.

There was hardly anything to bring up considering she'd had the smallest dinner last night, much to her husband's dismay. Oh! Gillian took a gulping breath and eased up from her hunched over position and went to close the door on unsteady legs. She actually felt a little better now she had thrown up but figured it was just a temporary relief until the nausea built up again and she was forced to rush for the nearest bathroom. She didn't upend her stomach every time she leaned over the toilet bowl; sometimes it was a false alarm. But even now, she hadn't worked out a rhyme or reason; a pattern she could counteract. She was only about a month and a half in to the pregnancy anyway and this wasn't new for her. She had been pregnant before.

After sitting for a few minutes on the cold tiles of the bathroom, her back against the cool plaster wall, Gillian got up again and brushed her teeth in the dark, feeling her way and guessing which tooth brush was hers because it seemed darker in her hand when she peered at it, bringing it up close; the light coloured one didn't belong to her. Gillian swirled her mouth out with cold water cupped in her hand several times and washed around her mouth thoroughly, trying to be quiet. She dried off and headed back to bed, settling on the mattress gently so she wouldn't disturb her stomach, or her husband, who she suspected was still asleep. She left the covers off and kept the sheet only because clearly she was too warm; that was what had woken her.

"All right?" Cal murmured in the darkness.

Gillian startled a little. "Yes," she whispered back.

"Were you sick?"

"Yes."

"Can get you somethin'?" He drawled.

"No I'm fine." The familiar churn started again and Gillian suppressed a groan. She swore it wasn't this bad last time she'd had morning sickness. "Go back to sleep," she whispered. She was. It was the only way so far to avoid the nausea.

**PJ**

Cal headed across the hall to his wife's office and pulled open the door with a jerk of his arm to let himself in. Gillian was standing next to the open window, her head practically hanging out of it; he wondered if she was looking at something in particular. She startled when he came in to the room and a little peaky when she came back in from the window. "All right?" He greeted, striding over to where she leaned back against the window frame.

"Fine," she repeated, unconvincingly. It looked as if she might collapse if not for the window to lean against.

Cal stood close and she leaned a little away from him. Wasn't going to take that personally. "Did you have lunch?"

Gillian shook her head, tight lipped, studying a spot on her carpet.

"Gotta eat," Cal told her gently.

"I really can't stand to," Gillian almost complained. Almost. She wasn't going to complain. The IVF had worked, she was pregnant and grateful to be and she was _not_ going to complain about that. At all. Just in case some cosmic force got a message she didn't want to have this baby and take it away from her again. No way. She wanted him. Or her? Cal had started out teasing her for being superstitious, but quickly canned it when he saw the hurt on his wife's face and stopped to think about it. Now he was patient with whatever worked for her.

Beneath Gillian's eyes were a green-grey tinge and Cal studied the marks carefully for a moment; it was accented by the pale colour of her skin and the washed out freckles. She looked awful. He meant that in a nice way. In a way that meant he was concerned, not repulsed, by how awful she looked. He wasn't doing a very good job of looking after her. Not yet. He was hoping to change that. When he figured out how. "Come and have lunch with me," he coaxed gently.

"No Cal," she shook her head slowly. They'd had this discussion before. "Yeah, come on," he took her hand but didn't pull her away, just held it. "Linin' your tummy will actually help."

"I know but I just can't bear the thought of chewing and swallowing."

Cal argued food would be good for her, settle her stomach. And Gillian let very little pass her lips. Including Cal.

"Soup," Cal supplied.

"Soup?"

"You don't have to chew soup."

"Still have to swallow it," Gillian mumbled.

The corner of Cal's mouth lifted up in amusement and he turned his head away so she wouldn't think he was laughing at her stubbornness; he was merely amused. "Come on," he tried again. "You'll feel betta I promise." He took a step back this time and pulled on her hand gently but firmly, so she had no choice but to follow.

"I have a question though," Gillian resisted a little bit more.

"Go on."

"How can you be sure I'm actually going to eat it?"

"You just watch me," he gave her a wink and a tame grin and backed up around her desk slowly and Gillian couldn't help but smile back.


	16. Chapter 16

The door bell rang and Gillian hurried to answer it. She was feeling harried, the house was a mess, Owen had only just quit crying, Cal was at work and Lewis at day care and she was alone and feeling a little overwhelmed. Owen was a good baby. He slept through the night and he fed just fine now and he really didn't cause too many problems except for when he stopped breathing and that just scared the shit out of everyone around him. They were all tense and over tired and unsettled. Owen seemed fine though. Even coming out of a spell of apnoea he didn't seem fazed.

"Hi," Gillian answered the door a little breathlessly. She realised she'd left the baby monitor in the kitchen and that if Owen stopped breathing right now she probably wouldn't be able to hear the alarm of his monitor. "Come in," she gestured to Heather quickly.

"How's he been?" She asked warmly. Not 'how are you' but 'how is the baby?'

"A lot of crying," Gillian sighed as they headed down to the living room.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't think so. I think he's just in that phase."

"How have his feeds been?" Heather headed straight for where Owen was lying on the ground, on his back, beneath an activity centre, bringing his feet up to kick the swinging brightly decorated plastic shapes. She knelt in front of him, making a mock surprised face and cooing gently in greeting and wiggling a hand over his torso.

"He's been good," Gillian informed the physical therapist. Heather had been coming to see them twice a week for the last month or so, around the time Owen stopped sleeping all the time and was more aware during the days. Gillian sat down next to her son while Heather moved the activity centre away. He gave her a smile, though Gillian wasn't sure they still weren't involuntary at this stage. She had a million shots of him smiling already. Owen grabbed his own foot and his eyes slid to the centre so they were crossed. He couldn't help it and it was disturbing to watch.

"His dexterity is getting better."

"Cal and I do the exercises with him. Or sometimes Lewis," Gillian revealed.

"That's nice, to get Lewis involved," Heather noted. Gillian watched as the other woman leaned over the baby and said hello and gently took his hands in hers; he gripped her thumbs. "Is he getting 'tummy time'?"

"Not much," Gillian admitted. "I worry that his lungs won't be able to expand properly."

"Sure," Heather agreed but most of her attention was on Owen. "We're going to start with some leg movement," her voice changed as she explained to the baby what was going to happen. "And then some tummy time."

Gillian watched on, fighting down that urge to tell the other woman to back off. Cal teased her about it, that feral mother instinct, as he called it, but there were also occasions when he admitted he felt an insane urge to rip someone's throat out if it looked like they were going to hurt one of the boys.

Heather showed Gillian a new exercise for Owen's legs, to strengthen his muscles and to encourage him to use them and to help the wiring of his brain properly. While Heather worked Owens' chubby legs she asked about his apnoea. It was the number one topic of conversation with almost all of his doctors; aside from the hearing and sight specialists. At the end of the week Gillian uploaded the monitor's readings to yet another specialist clinic, who read through the data. They could tell which alarms were real and which were merely loose cord triggers. The length of the apnoea and bradycardia spells was analysed and how low Owen's heart rate had fallen to. Then they'd call and Gillian would have to go over each episode and discuss when the alarm happened, what Owen was doing at the time, what someone had to do to get him breathing again. Reliving those moments made Gillian feel uneasy, like if she paid too much attention to them they would garner more energy and multiply. All that information was then sent to Owen's doctor at the clinic. Last week there had been fifteen. This week just ten.

"He's making improvement," Heather noted.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed. And he was. He really was. He was doing great considering everything that could have gone wrong. They had gotten off lightly with his premature birth really.

"In a few years you won't even remember he had a few problems at all."

Now that sounded very optimistic.

"You'll be just like all the other boys and girls your age," Heather cooed at Owen. He returned a gummy grin and waved his arms and Gillian hoped that was true. "Has he rolled over yet?"

"No," Gillian admitted and wondered if she should feel disappointed. She could hear Cal telling her she shouldn't be. Babies didn't follow time tables and schedules or books and with Owen it was going to be doubly interesting and hard to predict because his developmental age was to be taken from his due date, not his birth date. Didn't mean Gillian didn't hate having to say no, her son wasn't rolling over or holding up his head on his own yet, or don't worry, the crossed thing is normal, even if it looks incredibly bizarre... his eyes will go back to normal on their own... When Heather turned Owen over to his belly, he just lay there like a turtle flailing around on its back, except he was on his front. Of one thing Gillian was sure, when it came to her kids, she was more insecure than she had ever felt in her life.


	17. Chapter 17

"Two minutes," Cal said without looking up. He was writing furiously on a pad of yellow legal paper, finishing a thought before he was due to pass off his notes to Ria so she could continue with an interview. Out of the corner of his eye, Cal saw the figure of a woman pass by his desk but he didn't stop to look up or identify properly. As soon as he'd done this he had a meeting with his cop friend Fox-Boycott and he was bordering on being late if he didn't hurry his ass. Warm arms wrapped gently around the back of his shoulders and a kiss landed on the crown of his head. Cal sat up straighter suddenly. "You're not Ria," he noted quickly.

"No," Gillian agreed.

"Cos this would be a little weird if you were," he tilted his head completely backwards to see her.

She gave him a forced smile. "Absolutely. It would be."

"I need two minutes," Cal told her again and righted his head. He crossed the 'T's' of the last word he had written.

"I bought us tickets for the Wheaton festival this year."

"You what?" Cal asked absently, finishing another sentence. His hand was starting to cramp and he was aware of the time. He hoped traffic was going to be kind to him.

"Tickets. For the Wheaton festival. For this weekend."

"This weekend?" Cal echoed.

"Yes this weekend."

"For mutha's day?"

"No," Gillian said slowly, patiently. Although it did also happen to be mother's day this weekend coming up. She put her hands on either side of Cal's face and tilted his head back again to look up at her. "Are you focussing? This is important."

"I'm busy," Cal protested.

"Then I'm not listening. Sorry. I'll come and talk to you later," Gillian responded lightly. She planted a kiss on his forehead and went to move away.

Cal grabbed her hand. "No I'll listen if it's important."

"It's important to me," Gillian countered. "But not life threatening. It can wait."

"Remind me late-a k?"

"Yep," she agreed and slipped out of his office through the study.

**PJ**

When Cal got home Gillian and the boys were already eating. Lewis was sitting up at the table with a knife in fork in his hand. He was next to this brother, who was around the corner from Gillian, who had taken Cal's seat at the head of the table. They usually sat with the boys between them, to supervise. "Sorry I'm late," Cal greeted.

Gillian smiled as she chewed and four-year-old Owen turned in his chair completely, hanging over the back of it. "Hi Dad."

"Hey buddy," Cal kissed the top of his head then kissed Lewis, who only noticed his father when he was in his line of sight, and finally his wife. "Oven?"

"Yes. Owen, turn back around and eat your dinner."

Cal retrieved the plate that was being kept warm for him and joined the boys at the table. He sat at the other end; they'd had to move the table down further when Owen graduated from the high-chair.

"How's Aiden?"

"Yeah good fine," Cal responded, taking his first mouthful of white rice. "Says hi."

Gillian smiled in response.

"Mum what's this thing?" Owen asked.

"It's a green bean."

"I don't like."

"Eat it," she commanded sharply. Give Owen an inch and he'd run off with half a mile. Owen put the vegetable in his mouth with his fingers and sort of, mashed it up with his tongue and hand instead of his teeth. Cal gave Lewis's knee a nudge under the table and the nine-year-old looked up at his father. Cal wiggled his eyebrows at his son and Lewis gave him a grin in return. Owen and Lewis were incredibly similar sometimes in their mannerisms. Except one glaring difference was their hearing. Owen had started to compensate for his big brother, nudging him when one of their parents was trying to get his attention. Cal realised something else about the boys. Lewis used to be like Owen; squealing and funny and mischief and bright blonde hair. And that had changed, Lewis had changed. He was a little bit more reserved now, just that little bit more serious, not so quick to immediately react with joy.

When had he changed?

When he got his hearing aids? When Cal had been sick that time, with his head injury? Or was it when he started school... no, it was earlier than that... it was...

"Cal?"

"Oh sorry," he looked up. All three of them were looking at him. "What? What did I miss?"

"Mum's talking to you," Lewis told him, twirling a finger in front of his mouth.

"Yeah sorry," Cal met Gillian's eye, seeing the silent question in them, '_are you all right?_' "Say again?"

"I said, can we talk about the weekend now?"

Cal realised she was excited. She had planned something. "I thought it was my turn to make plans for our anniversary?"

The enthusiasm on Gillian's face dialled down a notch. "But I found something really great for you."

"I found somethin' really great for _you_."

"Can I get down?" Lewis cut in. He pointed sharply at the floor.

Cal glanced at his plate. "What's wrong with that?" He gestured to the smattering of rice still there.

Lewis looked at the rice granules for a second, then picked up his fork again. Cal looked over to his wife who was spiking a bean onto Owen's fork for him to put in his mouth himself. Otherwise he mostly ate with his hands. Lewis was using his right hand to push the rice on to the fork in his left hand and then put it in his mouth. Close enough.

"Can you move your thing?" Gillian spoke up, leaving the fork on the edge of the plate for Owen to grab when he was ready.

"No I got tickets," Cal answered.

"So did I."

"Well when is it?"

"Sunday afternoon."

"My thing's Friday night," Cal grinned. Gillian smiled, pleased.

"Now Dad?" He made 'Y' hands, palms facing up and dropped them down a few inches sharply.

"Yes," Cal checked Lewis's plate again and allowed. "Take your plate and wash your hands."

Lewis pushed out his chair and jumped down, then pushed the chair back in and grabbed his plate with two hands, shifting to keep it even as his knife and fork slid around a bit. He headed towards the kitchen slowly and Cal watched him go, wondering again, when his personality had changed so much, if it really had even changed or if he was just imagining it, and if it even mattered. Lewis was happy and well adjusted... so that shouldn't be something to worry about right?

"Me too!" Owen announced, turning in his chair again to get down.

"No," Gillian caught him by the shoulder. "You're not finished." She shook her head and made a 'five' hand, the palm facing her, then swung it abruptly, hinged on her wrist, so her palm faced Owen.

"Am. Look. All gone," he brought his fingers to his eyes and then pointed them down at his plate and added 'gone', pulling his right hand down through his left's grasp.

"No," Gillian shook her head. She used his fork to scrape together the remnants of his meal.

"How much?" Owen queried.

"This much," Gillian answered, dividing the pile of rice and green beans and chicken and sauce in half and indicating which half Owen had to eat before he earned his pass to get down. Lewis came back to ask if he was allowed to watch TV and Cal countered that if he had done his homework that it was all right.

"I've done my homework," Lewis responded with a nod. 'Home' was the fingers by the mouth, then back against the cheek. Then 'work': 'S' hands, the right hand tapping the top of the left. Cal nodded then that it was fine and felt a little pang that he had missed out. At least he was here for bed time rituals and considering Gillian had already done her share of parental duty today he would probably do it alone too.

The TV came on in the background and Owen mashed his meal in to his mouth with his hands more than using the fork, then announced he was finished and Gillian said he could get down from the table. He carried his plate but she got up to supervise some hand and face washing, and then he too was allowed to watch TV. Cal cleared his own plate, stacked the dishwasher and then went to see where his wife had disappeared to. She was in the 'big' person living room, lying on the couch, a book in hand. Nope, a journal, Cal realised as he got closer. He sat on her feet, and even though she tried to rapidly shift them out of his way he still caught her toes. She looked over the top of the journal at him.

"So this weekend," Cal prompted.

"I've already got my babysitter organised."

"Who's that then?" Cal was surprised.

"Em."

"Aw," Cal complained, leaning back against the couch. "Now who am I gonna use? Stole my babysitta," he grumped.

Gillian wiggled a toe under his thigh. "Oh please, flutter your eyelids at some poor unsuspecting sucker and I'm sure they'd be over here in a flash."

Cal turned his head to give her a bemused frown. He dived towards her suddenly, making her bring up a knee beneath him and protesting loudly. Cal grinned and wormed his way up her body, using his weight to immobilise that knee. "And what about mutha's day? Suppose I should organise somethin' for that too. Oh wait," his face got serious and he stopped still, leaning over her, holding up his weight on his arms, his hips flush against hers, their legs tangled. "Probably shouldn't tell you about that. Pretend I said nothin' and make sure you act surprised when you get breakfast in bed."

"I often do," Gillian shot back and laughed.

Cal hung his head. "Set myself up for that one."

A hand smoothed through his hair. "Yep you did."

Cal leaned down and kissed the edge of her throat, then looked up at her again. "Do you think Lewis is all right?"

Gillian's face went straight to concerned immediately and Cal figured he should have worded his opening a little differently. "He's just bulking up to go through a growth spurt."

"No I meant, do you rememba when he was..." Ok, how the hell was he really going to bring this up? Gillian gave him a frown, waiting for him to go on. "When he was little, he was like Owen."

"Well yeah they look similar at the same age but they do actually have different genetics..."

"No," Cal cut her off with a slight shake of his head and an apologetic smile. "I meant, personality wise." Gillian was silent this time, inviting him to explain, her eyes questioning. "Lewis used to rush around and squeal and laugh and be trouble but that's changed. He's changed."

"Where is this coming from?" Gillian asked slowly and shifted a little beneath him. Cal repositioned his weight so he was crushing her less. She went on before he could answer, "Lewis has grown up, that's all. Yeah he used to be trouble but he was a lot less trouble than Owen is. And yeah he used to squeal around enjoying life but he still does that now, just maybe, without screeching the house down. He was probably so noisy because he couldn't really hear himself very well. I've seen you two having marathon tickle torture and laughing over a movie or some silly story you're telling him."

Cal watched her earnest eyes as she talked. "You don't think he changed, you know, around a specific time?"

"No I think he grew up, is growing up, like he should be, with love and laughter. Lewis has a fascination with the world and a curiosity he takes seriously, and so do you. If anything, it's your fault, for treating him like an adult. But that doesn't mean he's not happy or well adjusted."

"Hm," Cal noted. He wasn't sure the accusation was a tease. He had always treated Lewis as a little adult. "You think I'm too serious with our kids?"

"No. It's not like they don't have fun. It's not like they don't ever go to the park or have friends over on play dates or go swimming or spend hours with their Dad playing Lego on the floor of their bedroom or _tickle torture_," she stressed again. She paused and prompted again, a little firmer this time, "Where is this coming from?"

"Was just thinkin', could have been related to... you know, the hearin' aids or that time I was in hospital?"

Gillian smoothed her hand over his temple. "Oh Cal..." They watched each other for a moment. "Lewis is fine."

"You check up on him don't you?"

She gave a little roll of her eyes, enough to say she didn't like the accusation but she couldn't deny it wasn't true and she didn't try. "Sometimes."

Cal leaned down to give her a kiss. "Thanks."


	18. Chapter 18

_AN: should warn this is a strong T rated chapter for use of language and themes. This is the 'how babies are made' chapter._

**PJ**

"Ready?"

"I guess."

Cal almost laughed; it was an automatic anxious response, not a mocking of her reluctance. Gillian narrowed her mouth at his grin though. "I'm nervous," Cal admitted.

"Really?" Gillian gave him wide disbelieving eyes.

"I've not done this before," Cal reminded her.

"Yeah but..."  
>Zoe had done the 'talk' with Emily. Alone. Cal and Gillian had already agreed that they were going to do it <em>together<em>. Gillian had found a child-orientated information book, with cartoons of naked men and women and sperm and ova and babies. Gillian also insisted they should sit Lewis down and talk about men, women, sperm, ova and babies, seeing as they had already started explaining how she was pregnant, but more importantly he was _that_ age, and really, they probably should have started this whole thing just a little bit sooner. However, now that moment was here, she realised she had given no thought as to how to _begin_ the conversation. "I'm not sure I'm ready," she confessed.

"Well I don't think there's eva gonna be a _good time _to have this convasation," Cal took her hand and started to lead her upstairs. "But you're already showin' and soon you're gonna really pop and Lewis is gonna ask more intense questions once he realises exactly what havin' a baby means so it's betta that we go to him first right? Somethin' about shown' him it's not somethin' we're tryin' to hide because it's shameful, right?"

Gillian nodded. Right. There _was_ that. Good ploy Cal, to make her aware that she was doing the right thing by her child, no matter how tough it was. They had talked about this, about how their parents had done it and how they _didn't_ want the information about sex and how babies were made to come out. It shouldn't be awkward considering it was so something so natural.

"Right?" Cal turned his head back to face her, as they headed down the hall on the first floor, when she didn't verbally respond

"Right," Gillian agreed, watching as his shoulder bumped into the wall and the force pushed him out again so he stumbled a little.

Gillian was nervous and so was Cal but he really would do anything to make her life easier if he could and so once they were in Lewis's room he called the boy to come over and sit on his bed with his Mum and Dad. Cal read the book to him, leaning against the wall, cover to cover, while Gillian sat beside them and watched. And yeah, maybe sitting the four-year-old down like that with both of them there _was_ placing significance on the moment he finally got the full account of how the baby had got into his mother's belly, but that didn't really matter because the information _was_ significant.

Cal closed the cover and gave the book to his son to hold and turned to him expectantly, "What do you think?" He placed his index finger against his forehead, slightly off centre.

"That's a funny story." He used his index finger and middle finger and brushed them down from his nose twice.

Cal chuckled slightly. "Yeah it is kinda funny. But it's a real story." He used 'serious' and 'story'; eight hands moving towards each other in a fluid motion and repeating it three times.

"Real life?" Lewis looked up at him, blue eyes sincere.

"Yep," Cal confirmed. "That's how babies are made." He rocked his arms like he was holding an infant.

"That's how I was made?" Lewis pointed to himself.

"Uh yeah," Cal agreed. Sort of. IVF was definitely a conversation for another day. Master the basics first. "And that's how the baby in Mum's tummy got into Mum's tummy."

"Babies live in a woo Dad," Lewis quickly corrected.

"Yep, her womb," Cal agreed. "You're right. Not her tummy." He pointed to his stomach and shook his head.

Lewis shook his head in agreement. "What's the sign for woo Dad?" 'Sign' was index Ferris wheels.

"Womb," Cal corrected. He had come prepared. "There isn't a sign. So we spell it," and he did so and when he added the 'B' at the end Lewis looked mightily confused. Cal explained it was silent, as in, don't pronounce the 'B', but it did belong there when the letters were written down or spelt out. Lewis nodded he understood. Cal suspected he wouldn't remember that though. Spelling was tough for words and concepts that didn't get used every day or were complex. 'Toy' was an easy one; short and used all the time. Names were usually abbreviated for simplicity. Lewis knew how to spell quite a few names and he understood his letters but as for writing them on a page...

They sat silently for a moment while Lewis thought or composed himself. Cal glanced over at Gillian. She had been so quiet he was pretty sure Lewis had even forgotten she was in the room. "You have any questions Lewis?" Cal prompted, making a question mark in the air.

"Did the sperm go in Mum and that's how the baby was made?" Lewis rocked his arms like he was holding a baby.

"Yes," Cal confirmed.

"How did it get it in there?" 'How' was making two arches and flipping them from close by the body, upside down, away from the body.

"You tell me," Cal challenged lightly. "We just read about it. Do you rememba?" He brought his hand to his forehead as if he were cramming something into his skull.

"Boys have penis and girls have vagina," Lewis told him, as if he were proud of that fact. He could sign 'boy' and 'girl' but as for anatomy, it was often signed by pointing to the correct 'part'.

"Yep that's true, but how does the sperm get out of the man and into the woman?" Cal signed 'in' by tucking the fingers of his right hand into those of his left.

"Hum," Lewis mused.

"Have a look," Cal gestured to the book Lewis had in his lap. Lewis pulled the book open again and roughly flicked through the pages. Cal winced, hoping the paper wouldn't rip under the assault. Lewis flipped back to a page that was clearly interesting and stared at it for a while. "Did you find it?" Cal prompted him again. The sign for 'find' and 'pick up' was the same.

"How about this page?" Gillian suggested, leaning forward to gently turn the pages beneath Lewis's fingers until there was the information about sperm and ova in front of him.

"I don't know the words," he looked up at his mother. He brought his right hand in a 'G' shape against the index finger of his left hand while shaking his head.

"Would you like me to read them to you again?"

"Yes pease," Lewis agreed, shoving the book towards her a little more, rubbing his flat hand around his chest quickly.

Cal eased back against the wall again, so he wasn't twisted slightly towards his boy and listened to his wife reading the section about how when a sperm met an egg it fertilised to make an embryo, which would take nine months to grow into a baby. Why did they say nine months? It was really ten months. Forty weeks, four weeks roughly in a month...

"What do you think?" Gillian pressed. "Did that tell you why?" She used a 'wh' question gesture.

Lewis gave a slight frown but he did sit and think a while. "It comes out the Dad's penis," he supplied.

"Yeah," Gillian affirmed with a slight smile, a proud smile, that he was able to work it out.

"Does there sperm come out my penis?"

"No, not yet," Gillian told him gently. "You have to be grown up for that to happen." She used 'big'.

"How come?"

"You just do. It's just one of those things that happens when you're bigger."

"Like Dad?"

"Yes like Dad," Gillian smiled again, but this time, it was for Cal.

"Oh. And Ajay? He's a big person. How come Emily has no baby in her womb?"

Cal had an urge to break Ajay's leg for putting his sperm in his daughter, which is certainly not something he wanted to think about at all, ever, thanks a lot Lewis, and luckily for him, Gillian fielded the answer to that question. "Because you can choose to have a baby or not," she made a 'V' hand shape with her left hand but kept it flat and plucked an imaginary something off her index finger with her right hand. "You know Aunt Kate and Uncle Matthew? They had babies and now they don't have any more."

"Oh so the sperm only comes out when you want?"

"Yes," Gillian tried and then hesitated. Her eyes met Cal's and he knew she was floundering again. He didn't really blame her. From what he'd heard she'd received the most awkward talk about the birds and bees. In fact, birds and bees _had_ actually been mentioned. How much was too much information? How much was not enough?

"Sperm comes out when a man has sex," Cal leaned forward again to re-engage in the explanation. Why the hell not just tell him the lot of it and be done? He was going to find out eventually and if he had the questions, as Cal had always maintained, then Cal would answer them. Even if they were complicated.

"With a woman?" Lewis asked. He used 'female' and 'fine', which was the accepted concept for woman.

"Not always with a woman. Sometimes men have sex with men," Cal pointed out. 'Man' was a squashed 'C' hand shape by the forehead, then brought down to the chest.

"Then how do they have a baby?"

"They can't. Can you tell me why?"

"Um," Lewis looked at the book again, as if it would whisper the answer to him.

"What do you need to make a baby?" Cal encouraged. "What two things?"  
>"A sperm and a egg."<p>

"Yes!" Cal agreed impressed. "And if the sperm comes from the man then where does the egg come from?"

"The woman."

"Yeah so, two men can't have babies can they?"

Lewis shook his head. Cal expected another question about 'but how does the sperm _get out_' and was preparing himself for a really, really awkward explanation but Lewis sat there for a moment, tracing his finger along the picture of the sperm on the page and was quiet. Cal wondered if he should wait for the boy to process, or prompt him again.

"Does it come out in your pee pee?" Lewis turned his head to his father. He almost looked concerned as he made a 'P' hand shape and pressed the index finger against his nose twice.

"No not then. Not when you go to the toilet." Cal made a 'T' hand and shook it back and forth.

"You have to have a man and a woman to have a baby," Lewis mused.

"Right," Cal agreed. He waited again because it seemed like Lewis was on the edge of something and Cal didn't want to interrupt. It was important for Lewis to understand in his own way.

"And the man has to put his penis inside the woman to make the sperm come out?"

"Yeah," Cal agreed. They could have a conversation about all the other ways to make sperm come out later.

"Oh. Is there a button to push?" He shoved outwards with his right hand, his left held on to the book.

Cal smiled before he could help it, and tried not to laugh. Tried very, very hard. "No," he spoke, his voice wavering a little. Lewis glanced up at him and he immediately sobered. "There is no button," he shook his head. "Do we have buttons on our bodies?" He made an 'F' hand and brought it down his chest in arcs, like he was pointing to each button.

"You have a belly button," Lewis noted.

"That's a very good point. But it's not really a button is it? It's a nickname."

"Oh." He looked back to the book.

The nice, tame, children's 'how babies are made' book did not touch on sex. There was one for puberty but Gillian said she hadn't been able to find one for the dirty mechanics of actual sex. That information was going to have to come straight from them. The book Lewis had in his hand picked up from _after_ the sex had been had. "Sperm comes out of a man's penis when he's havin' sex," Cal spoke up. "What happens durin' sex is, with a man or a woman, blood rushes into the penis and makes it very sensitive to touch. And when he puts his penis inside the woman it feels really, really, really, really, really great. For the man and the woman."

Lewis looked up at him again, the book not as interesting as an explanation like that. The boy's eyebrows flickered a little as if they were saying 'go on'.

"And then afta a while, it gets _really_ excitin' for the man and he has an orgasm and the sperm travels out of his testicles and comes out his penis, which is inside the woman."

Lewis's expression changed to 'that sounds hideous' or 'are you kidding me!'

Cal raised his eyebrows, not sure what to say next, inviting Lewis to comment.

"And then the woman has an awesome and a egg comes out?" Lewis eventually asked.

"An orgasm," Cal corrected. "And with women it's different," he told Lewis gently, crossing his index fingers then drawing them apart. It was the sign for 'but' as well. "The egg comes out of a woman's ovaries every month and it travels down a tube to wait in her womb in case some sperm comes in."

"Oh," Lewis turned back to his book with a frown on his face. Cal glanced over at Gillian who was studying the bed spread. This was really her domain. "Then were does it go?"

"If there's no sperm then the egg comes out of the woman's body," Gillian picked up the narrative.

"It just falls out?"

"Yeah," Gillian spoke up.

"Do you know it falls out?" Lewis looked over at her. He indicated the book a little by shifting his grasp on it. "Cos it's so small you can't see it with your eyes," he added as if this were new and wise information he was imparting on to her.

"Yes I know," Gillian told him and Cal was glad because it would have been so easy to lie and with every new revelation of truth came more questions and more to explain. "See in the book," she took it and turned the pages again to the start where it explained about the womb, how there was a lining for the embryo to attach to and get lots of nutrients so it could grow, before the baby had a stomach.

"Then where does it go if it falls out?"

"Away in to the toilet."

"Like a poo?" Lewis giggled. He grabbed his right thumb with his left hand and pulled it down and out again.

"Sure," Gillian agreed, suppressing a laugh of her own. "Sort of like a poo, but remember it's so small..."

"You can't see... Then how you know?"

"All of this comes out too," Gillian indicated the picture, with the thick endometrial lining.

"Oh you see that?"

"Yes."

More silence.

Cal wondered if they had covered all the bases yet. He'd talked to Lewis about girl parts and boy parts before, why Mum looked different to Dad. And how they were also _private_ parts that no one else was allowed to touch, especially if Lewis said 'no', and he was most certainly allowed to say 'no' if he didn't like it. He'd told Lewis about how his body would change as he grew up and became a man but he hadn't really gone in to the girl's side of things, nor specifics; but then he didn't have to, Lewis looked at his body and he looked at Cal's body and he could see. There didn't seem to have been a need and it was something more easily explained when the kid was actually going through puberty and they went over it all over again.

"But don't women not have trestles?"

"Testes. No women don't," Gillian answered, shaking her head. "We have ovaries, which are like women testicles, but inside our bodies."

"Where?" Lewis asked quickly.

"Down here," Gillian pointed to either side of her pelvis, under the slight swell of her pregnant belly. "But inside. You can't see them." She reached for the book and showed him in the picture again.

"That's inside you?"

"Yes."

"Oh. But so small you can't see?"

"Well you can see the ovaries but you can't see the eggs inside them."

"Are they like chicken eggs?" He made a beak with his index finger and thumb and snapped it close.

"No," Gillian chuckled a little. "You know how big a chicken egg is." She made two 'H' hands, brought the right edge of her middle finger down on top of the edge of the left index finger, then moved them both down and away.

"Human eggs are different," Cal added.

"They look like this," Gillian pushed the book upright and pointed again, to the picture.

"Different," Lewis mused, crossing his index fingers, then drawing them away again.

Now that was covered, it was time to have a conversation about what was and what wasn't appropriate to talk about in public.


	19. Chapter 19

Gillian staggered through the open kitchen doors and slid the box of groceries on to the bench with her right arm and a nudge of her hip. Her handbag slid down to her elbow and she let it go further, to her hand, and tossed it in to the top of the box. Owen threw himself out, away from her body, so that he was unbalanced, and Gillian had to move quickly to not drop him to the floor. She shifted his weight to her other side but he squirmed and kicked against her and she quickly caved to put him to the ground. The kitchen was mostly baby-proof and there were barriers over the shallow stairs leading down to the lower-level living room and dining area under the conservatory glass. Gillian stepped over the blonde-haired thirteen month old and slid the kitchen doors leading out to the hallway closed to keep him contained. He wasn't crawling yet, or walking for that matter, but he could still move it when he wanted to.

"Oh!" Owen held up a wet fist to her.

"Hungry?" Gillian asked him, moving a 'C' hand down her body. She reached in to the box of groceries for the packet of hard biscuits he liked to cut his teeth on. She crouched down to his level, pulling the tab to open the smaller box in her hand and took one out.

"Ohhhh!" Owen exclaimed. "Mama!"

"Thank you," Gillian cooed, handing it over, and moving her hand towards her mouth, then out towards Owen.

Owen grasped the biscuit eagerly. "Oooh-oooh." He threw a hand in her direction.

Gillian stood again, taking the box to the pantry and putting it on the shelf. Owen bumped the hard cracker against the side of his mouth, before finding the gap and starting to gum it. Gillian headed back for the big box of groceries and took it to the bench by the fridge. She started to pack away the vegetables, the milk and cheese, and other perishables into their places. Cold fingers grasped at her calf and she looked down to find her son kneeling on his right leg and reaching up with his left hand; the right was still occupied with the teething biscuit. "Hi," she greeted him. Blue eyes looked up at her carefully. The cracker was waved in the air. "You have it," Gillian told him, stepping back gently, so she wouldn't knock him to the ground.

"Ba, ba, ba," Owen informed her.

Gillian smiled at him. "Is it tasty?" She made a 'K' hand and moved it from her mouth out to the full extension of her arm.

"Oh ap gizzle boo."

"Uh huh," Gillian agreed. She took her grocery box to the pantry and set it on the ground to unpack the pasta, jars of sauce, the snacks Lewis had for his school lunch and tins. Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of Owen scooting himself closer over the slate tiles. No crawling yet but Cal claimed he was going to skip that part all together and go straight to actual walking; he _was_ cruising around furniture while hanging on to it.

When Owen was closer he steadied himself on one knee and one foot and leaned over in to the box. Gillian continued working but kept an eye on him; he could be trouble sometimes. She had found him one day in the en suite toilet. _In_ the en suite toilet. With piles of toilet paper strewn around him and his clothes soaked through and a happy little grin on his face when he was busted as he tried to reach up for the button to flush. Gillian was horrified, and not just because the toilet also had a massive wad of paper pressed into the neck which had taken Cal hours to unplug again while he threatened to just call a plumber, but because of the germs. It only occurred to her afterward to be curious as to how he had pulled himself up there in the first place. After that, they toddler-proofed the entire house, crawling yet or not.

"Ohpff," Owen lifted a jar of jam out towards his mother, straining under the weight of it, like it was incredibly heavy. It was hard to tell if he was faking or not.

"Thanks," Gillian bent over to take it from him, signing the word again, and placed it on a shelf higher up. There were many interesting things on the bottom shelves that had not found a home higher up for two reasons; the first being that under no circumstances was the door to the pantry to be left open if Owen was in the vicinity; and the second was that there simply wasn't enough room in there. The pantry is where many things went to hide.

"Ohpfff!" Owen called again, right hand fisted around the hard biscuit, the fingers of his left hand splayed awkwardly around the top of a tin of baked beans.

Gillian quickly retrieved it from him. "That one was heavy huh?" She curled her hand upwards by her hip like she was holding something weighty in it. She put it on the shelf, waiting for Owen to slowly work the next tin closer to his body so he could lift it with his one hand. Gillian wondered if she should suggest he use two hands and then she wondered if he preferred to use his left, like his brother.

Owen made a kind of grunting sound as he leaned over the box and struggled. Gillian crouched down to help him and his head snapped up quickly, red with exertion. "NO!"

"I wasn't going to!" Gillian retorted, holding on to a shelf for balance. "Just when you're ready."

Owen looked up at her again, his blue eyes bright against the shock of blonde hair. Cal was adamant, the boy looked like his mother. But Gillian wasn't so sure. Owen's face shape was that of his father's, so were his eyes. Across fair skin there were freckles but the calculated expressions were straight from his father. Owen gathered the tin up in his arm, rolling it up the side of the box to gather in the crook of his elbow, then he awkwardly passed it over and ended up half-throwing it in Gillian's direction. It hit the other side of the box and clattered into the other tins still in the bottom, like pins under assault from a bowling ball.

"Thanks," Gillian took it, standing again to put it on the shelf. She heard Owen reaching for another one. When she turned he was practically standing on his hands without his feet on the floor anymore as he bent double to reach. He made those funny little grunting sounds he also made in his sleep that still rocked Gillian off to slumber listening through the baby monitor. If he was making noises, he was still breathing in his crib down the hall.

Gillian reached down and took the next can and put it on the shelf. Owen fell into the box and gave a disgruntled little cry and Gillian, despite her son trying to fend her off, picked him up to make sure he hadn't smacked his head or lip on the edge of the can. He seemed fine enough even as he protested being picked up. "I'll help you," Gillian told him, suddenly over waiting for him to 'help'; it took too bloody long. She held him around the waist, lowering him down to the box so he could pick up the last can. When she brought him to her hip he was smiling again, showing his neat white teeth. "Here," Gillian tapped the shelf where she wanted him to put it. Owen tried to reach out with one hand, his right one this time; the biscuit was in the box, discarded, but the tin was too heavy and he merely knocked it in to the wood of the shelf.

"Two hands," Gillian urged him and he complied, thunking the can of beans heavily on top of the shelf this time, then leaning back against her to claps his hands, pleased. "Yay!" Gillian enthused lightly and turned to head out of the pantry, kicking the now empty box in front of her. Owen kicked his feet and squirmed his body back and forth and gestured with his right index finger, signing 'down'. Gillian put him back on the kitchen floor and turned to reach for the box, sliding it along the floor towards her so it was out of the doorway and pushed the pantry door closed. She dug the teething-biscuit from the bottom and leaned down to give it back to Owen.

"Oh!" He snatched it back and stuck it in his mouth. Gillian turned the box upside down and placed it over his head. It was deep enough for the sides to almost reach the floor while Owen was sitting but it didn't entirely balance on his head. Gillian watched him shake it, as if he could dislodge the box from his cranium. It fell to one side and his feet flailed in the air while he fought to keep his balance.

Gillian giggled. She sat down in front of him and lifted the box up far enough to see his slightly panicked face. "Boo!" She let it go gently again as Owen gained his balance. She sat, waiting, wondering what he would do next.

Little fingers appeared at the edge of the box and it shifted backwards so his head was in the corner closest to where Gillian was sitting. His hair rustled against the cardboard and then stopped. Then the box lifted slightly, further and further until Owen's face was visible. He found his mother's eyes and started giggling. "Boo!" Gillian said again.

"Oooh!" Owen squealed and dropped the box and Gillian sat and waited once again.


	20. Chapter 20

In their neighbourhood, there weren't actually any kids Lewis's age. So when they all went back to school, with their parents at work during the day as well, the streets were quiet. Perfect environment for Lewis to learn to ride his bike in; no one would be watching, no one was going to stand on the street and observe. Except maybe Gillian in the window with a camera. They tried to spend at least a few hours on the weekends at home and not up at the hospital visiting Owen; phone calls first thing in the morning didn't count. During the week, like today, they both tried to be there for Lewis. It didn't matter that Cal was missing a day of work, or that Lewis was missing a day of pre-kindergarten. Family time seemed more important at the moment. Especially when Cal and Gillian bordered on the distracted most of the time. Or they used to. It was time to turn over a new leaf.

"All right," Cal gripped the black handle bar of the child's bike and the back edge of the black seat. He had taken the training wheels off, both of them, despite Gillian protesting a little that maybe he should ease Lewis in to learning to ride his bike and just take one away, but Cal told her off for coddling and as soon as he uttered those words, with a mix of embarrassment and anger flashing in her eyes, she had backed off and he had regretted it. He didn't mean to snap but some things just had to be done, like ripping off band aides or jumping into a pool.

The bike was mostly black with flashes of red fire licking along the middle bar and up the handles. Lewis loved it. Cal was glad he had picked well. And not only that, it was generic enough for Lewis to not hate it in a few years because his current fad of Ninja's had worn off by then. It was medium sized too, which meant Lewis would get plenty of use out of it as he grew. It also meant Lewis wobbled with insecurity of being on a bike that seemed slightly too big for him right now.

"Don't let go," Lewis begged.

"I promise," Cal told him easily.

"I'll fall."

"You won't fall," Cal assured. "Because I'll be holdin' on all right? The whole time."

Lewis nodded but he still looked a little pitiful. His weight shifted and he leaned in to his father's shoulder. Cal steadied him again so he was balanced on the two wheels of the bike; he had to get a feel for it himself.

"Both feet on the peddles," Cal told him, raising his voice slightly over the rising wind; too hard to sign when he needed both hands to hold on. Lewis obliged and Cal indicated that they would begin. To start, they were just going to slowly walk along the block and Cal was going to hold on while Lewis peddled his feet and got a 'sense' of how the bike felt.

They headed down the block to the road and stopped. Cal turned them both around in a wide arch, his hand on the handle bar, pulling to the left. Lewis's helmet was a deep red, which he had picked out himself, as the rest of his Christmas present, and he was very proud that it matched the bike. They were both in winter jackets and Cal had a scarf. He had felt a scratch in his throat that he was determined not to let run wild into a cold, so being out in the cool air like that was probably not an entirely good idea...

Cal straightened the bike back on to the path and told Lewis that this time, when they headed down at a speed that was only as fast as Cal could walk, Lewis was going to steer by himself. Lewis looked up at his father again. "But you're gonna hold on?" He gripped the handle bars tightly.

"Yes," Cal nodded. "I'm gonna hold on the back. Don't worry," he gave a slight teasing smile and nudged Lewis with his now free hand. Lewis fell into Cal's shoulder and once again he righted him, realising the boy was leaning to rest on the training wheel that was no longer there. At some point Lewis was going to fall. He would fall off his bike and graze his knee and possibly an elbow and Gillian could kiss it better all she liked and gripe at Cal that he shouldn't have taken the training wheels away, but today was not that day. Cal wasn't going to let him go to learn a lesson the hard way. They were going to take this nice and easy. Cal remembered his mother teaching him to ride his bike and it was scary as shit.

Cal pushed Lewis forward and the front wheel headed straight to the left and over the grass of whoever lived there's front lawn. Cal steadied them back on the path again as he pushed Lewis slowly along and the four-and-a-half year old turned his legs. They headed past their home and down further to the other end of the block. Lewis made a wobbly turn this time with a big of guidance and they headed back in an almost smooth motion. Once they reached the driveway Cal stopped for a rest. He straightened his back and leaned Lewis, who was still holding on to the bike for dear life, against his thigh.

"What do you think?" Cal asked him, turning his hands up in front of him and shifting them back and forth, curling his fingers. Lewis nodded, the helmet strapped to his head slipping forward. Cal smiled to himself, noting Lewis had not let go of the handle bars to respond. "Shall we go again?" He took the fingers of his right hand and stiffly jammed the tips against the palm of his left hand. Lewis nodded again. Cal pushed him upright and balanced the bike with a hand on the back of the seat. Lewis was more confident this time as they went. He tended to list to the left but Cal figured once he realised those training wheels were gone, he would quit it.

They did another two loops, while Cal stood back further, manipulating less, trying to get Lewis to feel the balance of the bike himself. A few times he had to step up quickly to stop Lewis from falling over completely but he felt confident for the kid. In fact, he was feeling confident enough to cockily think he might get Lewis to ride the bike himself by the end of the day. It had taken Cal weeks, he remembered, because his mother tended to just push him off and watch him fall. Oh yeah, there was nothing like learning something the hard way. It was worse that Thomas rode circles around Cal while he was trying to learn and laughed when his little brother had to sit and pick the gravel out of his palm and knees. He would look up to find his mother staring off absently at the skyline and wonder why she did not pay more attention.

"How's it going?" Gillian asked, practically leaping on them as they came in to the garage. Cal figured she had been watching them and waiting. She had made soup and had soldiers buttered and piled up on a large plate and ready for lunch. She pushed the clip on Lewis's helmet to remove it for him and then fussed over taking his jacket off while Lewis chattered about how super fast his flame bike was and how he'd done good riding; talkative now the immediate danger was over.

"You rode well," Gillian corrected. Lewis signed 'eat' and Gillian indicated he could sit up and help himself to toast. She ladled chicken and sweet corn into a bowl for him and set it down, warning him it was 'hot', which was like a reverse 'eat' sign, but done quickly and dramatically. Lewis nodded and picked up his spoon with his left hand, waving it over the surface of his meal, like that would help.

Cal caught Gillian around the waist as she came back to the kitchen to get herself a bowl. "How badly do you want to bolt?"

"Bolt?" She leaned back a little in his arms to see his face.

"To the hospital."

She almost sighed. "I'm trying."

Cal planted a quick kiss on her lips, pressing hard but briefly. "You're doin' all right." He went to let her go but she held on, gripping the back of his shirt.

"I was watching you with Lewis." Cal didn't say anything, and waited for her to go on. She took a moment and Cal suspected she was fighting back all those gushy comments she wanted to make and often did, but suspected would drive him crazy if she went on too much. She settled for something new: "He's doing pretty well huh?"

"Yeah," Cal agreed. "Maybe head back out when you go up to see Owen."

Gillian nodded and forced a smile and Cal felt saddened that she was torn between watching her boy learn to ride his bike and going up to see her new baby in a hospital. Someone had to stay with Lewis if they had kept him home and they were trying so hard to create a new routine when it came to dealing with his situation. It meant taking Lewis out of day care an extra, or an extra afternoon, a week, but that meant someone had to actually stay with him if he was home. If Gillian went up to see Owen after lunch then Cal would go later in the evening. Otherwise he hardly ever got to see the baby either. On the weekend, they would do it all over again.


	21. Chapter 21

"Daddy."

Cal half woke.

"Daddy," the little voice murmured again. He didn't sound like he was calling to his father, just conversationally making an observation.

Through a haze Cal felt the small hand tugging at the shirt at his shoulder and a fistful of bedcovers. Cal slid an arm out to feel for his wife but the bed appeared empty, as far as he could reach anyway. Damnit. It was his turn to sleep in and he had been completely out of it. Gillian must have left the bedroom door open a little.

"Daddy," the voice repeated, slightly more urgent this time, and Cal came more awake. Little hands, fairly weighty body, clear pronunciation. Owen. If it was Lewis, he would have been able to climb up himself. Cal reached out his other arm, dislodging the fingers from his shirt and used both hands to mostly drag his youngest son up against his torso and across his lap. He let go again, asleep, exhausted; his arms zombies.

He felt Owen shift on the bed, getting to his hands and knees, Cal figured, to crawl his way to the top of the bed and start... causing trouble probably. Sometimes he liked to pull hair or throw pillows. Either way, Cal figured he was screwed for getting anymore sleep. And he really could do with some. He was going to lodge a complaint with his wife and demand a refund.

Owen did crawl up to the head of the bed but he wiggled his way under the covers and lay over Cal's arm and shoulder, fully body hugging it, his head against his father's jaw. Cal could feel the comforting winter warmness of flannel pyjamas and soapy softness of the boy's scent. Cal reached over with his free right arm and smoothed his hand against the back of the eighteen-month-olds head; blonde hair, soft and fine, like his mother and Cal could see it in his mind. Beautiful Owen. With his mother's nose and his brilliant blue eyes. He was going to be a heart breaker. He already had the personality for it; charm and mischief. He'd skipped crawling, gone straight to walking and spoke comprehendible words that had his mother, every other woman and quite a few men just eating out of his hands...

And then Cal realised something else as he came more and more awake with each gentle breath. That whispering sound, that was Owen. He was saying something as they lay there. Softly speaking repeated words.

"There Daddy," he murmured against Cal's neck, his voice warm, soft, and content. He gave a little sigh. "There with Daddy."


	22. Chapter 22

Gillian didn't wait for the light to go out before turning to her husband and demanding: "So what did you tell Lewis about religion?"

Cal popped open the catch of his watch, not even seeing the faint white scar that ringed his wrist anymore, and put the item on his bedside table, checking his phone was there too and then putting out his light. He shifted down the bed to rest his head on his pillow and pulled the cover up to his chin, turning on his side to face his wife, who was waiting patiently, who knew better than demanding answers before he was ready because he tended towards whimsical responses designed to frustrate her.

"I think I tried to convey that some people believed in a god or gods but that I didn't."

"You think?"

"Trust me, that kind of convasation is really hard when you're havin' it with a five year old. Which means we should figa out what it is that we want to teach him. Cos I don't believe in a Christian god, nor any of the otha world religions but does that mean you don't? And what does that mean about what we're gonna tell him when he asks? Cos obviously he's askin'. His friend tells him there's a god. And I don't want to just decide what Lewis is gonna grow up believin' in; he should be able to make up his own mind right?"

Gillian placed a hand on the curve of his cheek, knowing instinctively where he was. "He's five. Doesn't he already believe what we tell him? Santa? The tooth fairy?"

Cal pouted a little, even though she couldn't see him; probably because she couldn't see him. "Isn't that different?"

"How?"

"Cos with religion it's like a dictataship of how you're meant to behave to get rewarded in the afta life."

"Ok I have two questions about that statement," Gillian told him softly. "The first is, how is that any different from being a good boy so Santa will bring him a present? And do you not believe there's a life after this one?"

"No I don't."

"At all?"

"No."

"Ok."

A pause.

"Then what do you think happens to us when we die?" Gillian asked curiously.

Cal shrugged, dislodging her hand from his cheek. She withdrew it. "We die and that's it."

"Then... what about your Mom and Dad? You think they're just in the ground?" She wasn't accusing, she was asking, trying to understand him.

Cal's eyes slid to the side a little, looking over her shoulder at the glow of the moon through the curtains, as he thought. "I guess. I mean, I don't think we're just a body. I think we have a soul but I don't think it goes up to heaven or hell or purgatory. I think it just goes into anotha body."

"Like reincarnation?"

"Yeah. Sort of I guess. But without that karma stuff."

"Ok," Gillian acknowledged and that was better to her than him thinking there was just a nothingness after the soul left the body. She felt sad if that was what he thought.

"Can't say I spend too much time thinkin' about this kind of thing Gill."

Gillian gave a slight nod of understanding that Cal could see now his eyes had adjusted. "What would you want to tell Lewis?"

"How do you explain the concept of religion and god to a five year old?" Cal repeated.

"What do _you_ want him to believe in?" Gillian stressed.

Cal thought for a moment and brought his eyes back to the general shape of her head, knowing she was watching him. "Is there a particula reason why you've not given your opinion on this subject?"

Gillian gave the ghost of an amused smile to herself. "I wanted to hear what was in your head." He didn't always tell her and nor was it always very clear.

"What's in your head?" Cal gave a slightly defiant tilt of his head. "You told me you don't believe in god."

"No I don't particularly," Gillian answered slowly. "But I do believe in some greater power. I can't say I've spent much time thinking about it either. I was taught to merely deal with whatever was handed to me in life."

'_And you've had your share to deal with_,' Cal thought.

"I think we mostly agreed," Gillian went on. "About what we believe in. The question is what do we tell our children? What do we want them to believe in? And I'm not just talking about religion but morally as well."

"This is gettin' heavy," Cal almost sighed.

"You would have gone through this with Emily though," Gillian pointed out lightly.

"Well... not really. Zoe did most of the actual parentin'. By the time Em was old enough for those kinds of convasations I was..." He didn't finish but Gillian knew. He had checked out of his marriage and then Zoe left and he was off the hook with being a father too.

"This time then," Gillian suggested.

"All right," Cal agreed.

"I uh," Gillian hesitated a little. "I was doing some research when we were talking to Lewis about how babies are made." Cal gave a slightly amused chuckle; telling her he wasn't surprised she had bothered to look into the right way to talk to a child while also encouraging her to tell him what she had found. "We could look at it together."

"Sure," Cal agreed, knowing she meant in the morning, or the weekend.

"Just tips on how to broach a subject."

Cal nodded he was ok with that, his head rustling against the pillow case. His technique the first time had not been particularly effective and he knew enough this second time to trust in his wife's ideas. "What _are_ our morals?"

Gillian was silent for a second. "I don't know. Don't kill anybody?"

"That's a good one," Cal agreed, the mood between them light again. "Don't do the dumb shit I did when I was a kid."

Gillian laughed. "That's a long list."

"Oi!"

She laughed again and leaned in to plant a kiss quickly on his nose. "Don't hurt people."

"Yes."

"Or yourself."

"Yes. That's a good one."

"I want our kids to be able to come to us and talk to us about something, no matter what it is, and for that to be true. My Mom always said it to me but it was never true. If I dared to ask her why Dad drank or didn't love us she would get upset and tell me not to ask the difficult questions."

Cal gave a nod. "I'd agree with that one. My Mum was the same. So was my Dad."

Gillian nodded this time and felt the need to touch him. She slid a hand along the mattress to find his arm. He shifted his hand within hers, linking their pinkies. "No matter what they ask?"

"Yeah," Cal agreed softly. "Even if it's tough."

"It will be tough," Gillian mused and Cal wondered what she was thinking about specifically. There really was so much.

"I want our boys to be in the right place to find love."

Cal felt his wife suddenly tense, even though it was subtle, which meant she had been surprised by his comment. She didn't have to ask what he meant because Cal went on anyway. "I think we can't be with the person who's the most right for us, the same person you love more than anythin' else in the world, unless _we_ are... in the right place." Cal gave a little wince. "Did that make sense?"

"Maybe," Gillian hedged.

"I mean, when you met me, I was a mess and my life was a mess and then watchin' you I wanted to be betta, a betta man, and finally, when I got there, you and I could be togetha cos we were in the same place at the same time."

"Emotionally?"

"Yeah emotionally but also... mentally and spiritually," here, he winced again because a part of him was using Gillian's concept and it didn't entirely sit comfortably for him. Spirituality. Well, technically, he was saying the same thing as she was. He had grown. Inside. As a person. His soul?

Gillian reached out with her other hand to brush against his cheek, shifting closer to him so she could feel the warmth of him on the bed sheet. "You're so... sweet sometimes."

"Just sometimes?"

"Well, you are Cal Lightman after all."

Cal laughed, surprised and impressed and pleased that she felt she could tease him like that in the midst of this. He shifted forward abruptly and captured her mouth with his own; a hot, wet kiss. When he shifted back again he could hear her breathing was that little bit more pronounced.

"I wanted to give you everythin," Cal went on.

"You have," Gillian murmured.

"I want our boys to find someone they love as much as I love you and I want them to be the best men that they can be because then they'll be happy."

Gillian leaned forward to kiss him again. "I want that for our boys too."


	23. Chapter 23

"Mum! Mum!" Lewis bounced on the other side of Gillian's car window. Cal had had to physically restrain the boy from rushing the car as soon as his mother had pulled in to the garage, even though he knew he was supposed to wait on the little mat at the foot of the steps until either vehicle had actually stopped moving.

"I did it!" Lewis crowed excitedly. Gillian had to open her door slowly and nudge him out of the way with it so she could actually get out. He was already talking a mile a minute, his words running together, his hands fluttering, and she was overwhelmed; she didn't understand. She looked over to her husband, waiting by the internal door and he signed 'bike' to her and she clicked.

"Wow!" Gillian enthused, pushing the car door closed with her thigh while she reached out her arms to lift her son to her hip. He was getting really heavy and she was reminded again that he was growing up. The thing with Owen, it just made her so acutely aware of everything; that Lewis was growing up; that Cal was the super-strength glue holding their family together; that she felt like she was barely keeping her head above water. Cal told her it was hormones, making her feel worse but somewhere in the back of her mind, which she tried to ignore, Gillian suspected she had reached her limit for familial disasters; she just couldn't take anymore. Please.

"I'm so proud Lewis," she ran an 'A' hand from by her waist up her chest. "Will you show me?" She couldn't do a two handed sign without dropping Lewis, or putting him down again, and she didn't want to do either. Sometimes it was nice to get a cuddle, even if it was brief, after going up to see Owen.

She walked around her car while Lewis nodded vigorously and pushed against her to be let down. He slid down her body to the concrete. "Dad!" He called going for his bike, which was stored against the wall by the laundry section of the garage. "You don't close the door!"

"All right," Cal agreed, though Lewis probably hadn't heard him. Cal stepped towards his wife, both of them watching as Lewis wheeled his bike between Gillian's car and a shelf. He checked so carefully to make sure he wasn't too close to either and was going to scratch. He passed his parents and cleared the back of the car and headed out to the top of the drive, then looked back to make sure his parents were watching, or following.

"This bit is too scary so go down there," Lewis told them seriously, using one arm to sign 'afraid'.

Gillian nodded and headed towards her son to follow him down the slope of the driveway and then she found Cal's warm hand in hers and he pulled her closer against his body. He was soothing and she shifted closer, so their hips bumped as they walked down the slight incline to the pavement. "How's Owen?" Cal murmured.

"He's good," she gave a smile, genuine reassurance. Cal nodded his approval and then Gillian focussed on Lewis, her big boy, who was climbing with a little awkwardness on to the bike, keeping a foot out to balance seeing as he no longer had training wheels. When he pushed off, Lewis wobbled like crazy and Gillian fought the urge to rush to his side to help; her hand tightened in her husband's and he squeezed back to keep her put. She was learning a lot about being a parent these days. _A lot_.

Lewis righted himself and headed down the pavement a bit. Gillian felt a pang, of pride, of grief, of fear, of joy. "You talked to him about cars right?"

"Shhh," Cal whispered, giving her hand another squeeze. He was telling her to just be in this moment, to enjoy it.

Gillian was learning a lot about being a parent from her husband. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and his gaze was slightly amused, mostly delighted. "You make me proud," she told him and then let go of his hand to congratulate Lewis.


	24. Chapter 24

The lights went down and Cal felt Gillian suddenly pull him closer against her, hands fisted around the lapels of his sports coat. She giggled a little as he stumbled, her breath warm against his cheek and he knew she was close even though he was temporarily blind. "Nearly time," she murmured against his ear, pressing her body along the front of his, shifting her hands so they smoothed around his ribs, making him shiver a little. She hooked them in the small of his back, a warm embrace. As Cal's eyes adjusted to the dark he could make out other figures in the gloom.

The place wasn't crowded but there were a fair amount of friends here. Not Cal's friends, they were friends of the hosts. Karl and Ria were holding a house warming/New Years Eve party and to be fair, most of the guests were work colleagues of Karl's. Cal supposed in some universes people made friends with the people they worked with. He never had. Nor had he even been interested either, until he met Gillian. Although, technically, they had become friends before they were really colleagues. And now they were lovers and living together and so Cal figured they really had come full circle. This New Year could symbolise a lot. They had been together a year now as well. Christmas/New Year was their anniversary season...

The music was still blaring but a few minutes out from the countdown the room was now dimmer and Gillian was slowly tugging Cal into... a corner by the look of it. Cal bumped against the wall and Gillian stepped in close. This was almost sordid. In a good way. He wasn't complaining. Gillian had a wicked flirty side to her that Cal had suspected was there but now knew for sure existed. She was flirty and made lewd comments and half the time caught him off guard with something...

"New Year's resolutions Cal?"

Cal tried to speak and found his voice constricted. He had to clear it to start again and he was aware of the musical laughter coming from his girlfriend. "Not particulaly," he finally responded. Although a good one might be to hold on to her, whatever it took. "You?"

"Hm," Gillian mused and Cal felt her shift her weight so she brushed against him. "I'll probably stick with the one I've had the last few years."

"Oh yeah?" Cal's interest went up and he found himself pulling Gillian closer while pushing off from the wall. He wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her against his body.

"Yeah."

"What is it?" Cal prompted. He felt the shift of her face, the muscles around her jaw and figured she was smirking over his shoulder. He started to turn them in a slow shuffle, finding a soothing rhythm in the music. This was nice, being able to do this, now that everyone knew about them... it wasn't as bad as Cal thought it was going to be. Once the teasing had died down anyway...

"Don't let the Lightman Group go under."

Cal chuckled a little and gave her a squeeze. "That's a good one."

"And so far, so good. I've not broken it."

"No," Cal agreed. She hadn't. He hummed a little and pressed his cheek against hers.

"This is nice," Gillian murmured delicately in his ear.

"Hm," Cal agreed. As they turned back to face the room he could see they weren't the only ones in a slow dance embrace.

"I've really enjoyed being with you Cal."

Cal felt his stomach clench. "Sounds like you're sayin' goodbye."

"Such a pessimist," Gillian muttered. She pressed a kiss against his neck. "I was merely reflecting on the year that's gone by."

"Oh."

"Thank you for agreeing to come next weekend to Arianna's birthday."

"Hm," Cal agreed. To meet her family; her niece's birthday. Not looking forward to it.

"Means a lot to me," Gillian went on.

'_Uh huh_,' Cal thought. He knew. And he knew he had to step up to obligations now that they were serious. They had bought a house together for crying out loud...

"You know, good boys get rewarded," she added in a low tone that sent another shiver through Cal. Oh he was so being 'handled' and he hadn't worked out how to get back at her yet. As far as he could figure, she had no limitations on what she wouldn't do for him. Not that he particularly wanted to test where those boundaries were; nor had he suggested anything completely lewd. He'd done investigations of boundaries when they'd first met, testing her friendship and it was pretty impressive even back then. Now he had so much more to lose. The loss wasn't on quite the same level now as it was when they'd first started to get to know each other.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"  
>Cal pulled back so he could see Gillian's face in the soft glow of a candle on the mantle. The stereo was also emitting a faint light and the kitchen had an orange rectangle spilling into the living room where they still swayed together slightly. Gillian's eyes glittered as she turned into the shadow again. Cal had an overwhelming urge to tell her she was everything to him.<p>

"One!"

"Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year," Gillian repeated softly and locked her lips over his before he had a chance to echo it. Her lips were warm and gentle and Cal felt emotion pouring out of her sweet kiss and in the tight grip of her fingers in his shirt, where her hands had found a home against his heart.

"I love you," Cal whispered.

"I love you too," Gillian echoed.

In less than a month they would be breaking up.


	25. Chapter 25

_AN: strong T rating for content and theme._

**PJ**

If having a kid halved the chances of having sex in any given week, then having two children meant that chance was dropped again by another half. Which left a good twenty-five percent probability. But then work had to be factored in, which was a whopping thirty percent of the week, and that left around... seventeen percent-ish... and then you had to minus all the hours that involved travel, meals and sleeping. And that just didn't leave a lot of chances at all. Cal was not the kind of man to be able to work out the figures exactly, but he knew it was low. Like maybe... a two percent chance, if he was lucky. That was really low. Loker could probably figure out a computer program to calculate the exact figure but Cal was merely daydreaming when he was meant to be working.

Cal focussed back on his computer screen. Not that he was obsessing about sex. Not at all. It was just that... well he did enjoy it and he enjoyed it very much with his wife and while he was not afraid to, uh, sort himself out in the shower several mornings a week, even though he knew Gillian had some sort of weird aversion to it; having a wank was just not the same as shagging his wife. And neither was her sucking him off either, although that was also highly enjoyable because she did this thing with her tongue...

It was Gillian that made sex so special. It was being with her and making love to her or just getting off together. It was what connected them and... just... it was a way of communicating without words and to be honest, those were some of Cal's favourite ways, despite also quite enjoying surprising his wife with a well worded speech now and then. It was their magic.

Of course, he didn't really want to sit her down and go 'hey Gill were you aware we only had sex once this week?' just in case that was far too blunt and ruined his chances even more. Not that Gillian held sex against him as a form of punishment. Nor had she objected to more sex. Nor had she object to direct conversations about their sex-life. He saw the way she looked at him. She thought about it too. And they had been here before of course, with Lewis, after he'd gotten more mobile, which meant they couldn't just leave him alone for any amount of time. And now Owen was at the same stage too, and of course Lewis was seven, and most nights Cal and Gillian both fell into bed exhausted.

It was an incredibly old argument, this sex-less thing, and Cal supposed that if Owen didn't have problems they had to worry about maybe their sex life would be different. So who was he to complain? He'd rather have his son alive and well. Certainly. And he wasn't sure if he should bring sex up with Gillian again. Would it look like he was demanding sex out of his wife? He really didn't want her to think that. There was a time when he really would have come across as _that_ shallow. There was a time when he would have by-passed the conversation and just thrown himself at his wife; he _had_ done that. But he would never do that to Gillian because that kind of behaviour was unacceptable. They talked about things and they worked out solutions. It was just that Cal didn't want to go over old territory again. Surely they would be better equipped a second time around?

"What are you day dreaming about?" Gillian asked as she strolled across his office.

This was a perfect reason for having his desk so far away from the door. So he could watch her approach with the sway of her hips and the click of her heels and the jiggle of her breasts, the flutter of her hair. He gave her a leering grin. "Nothin' at all."

"Liar, liar," Gillian told him forcefully. She took a seat opposite his desk, slid down into it to echo his posture.

"Thinkin' about you."

"Aw that's cute," she gave him a smile.

"What are you up to?" Cal threw the pen in his hand to the blotter.

"I was just out with Loker."

"I hope that was about a case."

Gillian ignored him. "Did you know we've only had sex once this week?"

Cal's jaw actually popped open to hang before he caught hold of himself again.

"Are you surprised to hear that?" Gillian queried warily.

"No, it's just that..."

"That's what you were just thinking about?"

"You know me too well," Cal complained.

Gillian gave a shrug. "You're an open book."

Cal chuckled. No, that was Gillian. Especially now the ripples of his brain injury had settled down and he wasn't so confused about things anymore.

"Did you come up with anything interesting?" Gillian went on.

"I miss you."

Gillian gave him a softer smile and shifted her shoes so her legs swung back and forth a little. Cal realised at this precise angle, if she dared to open her legs just a fraction, he would catch a rather nice glimpse of her underwear.

"Where's Trouble?"

"With Aunt Ria."

"So?" Cal's eyebrows went up. "I've always wanted to christen your desk."

Gillian's eyebrows also went up. "In the middle of the day? With people here? Uh uh," she tsked. She shifted her elbows to lever herself up a little higher. "I have to take Trouble home anyway, he's due for his nap."

"Did you have fun out in the real world with the big people?"

"Yes it was thrilling. Made me realise exactly what I was missing."

"Anythin' specific?"

Gillian's legs parted and Cal's gaze focussed intently and yes, as she pushed herself up out of the chair from the awkward slant, she did flash her underwear at him. Dark blue. Cal felt his stomach and groin and heart tighten up all at once. That was so on purpose. Cal got up quickly and headed around his desk, sliding hands around her waist. She gave him a smile, one of those amused at a secret ones. "That was naughty," he growled pressing a kiss against her neck. He felt her hand along the back of his shoulders, squeezing slightly.

"I miss," Gillian whispered.

Cal pulled her closer, daring to squeeze her tightly. "What?" He prompted. "What do you miss?"

"You, Cal, I miss you."

Cal growled again, nuzzling a little and then letting her go before she could push him away; she was still carefully about overt public displays of groping. Cal was starting to feel desperate, the pull for her more intense now she was so physically close, and he could see it there in his wife's eyes too.

"Tonight," Gillian told him softly and it sounded a little like a question and little like a request. Cal nodded and she smoothed fingers along his jaw and down the side of his neck, giving his shoulder a pat before she started to walk away. "I've got something special for you. See you tonight."


	26. Chapter 26

"You!" Gillian pointed to Owen, who was jumping on his bed. "Sit down right now!" He did with a plop.  
>"Mum, Owen was flinging his poo at me!" Lewis complained.<p>

"You sit down too," Gillian signed angrily, pointed at the ground viciously. They were both jumping on their beds, throwing something a lot heavier than poop because the combined noise of thumping and thudding is what had drawn Gillian upstairs in the first place.

Lewis lowered himself more carefully to his backside, watching her intently, slightly defiantly. His bed was a mess of sheets and there were toys strewn typically all over the floor. Often, there were toys on the floor, but that was only if there was a game set up and it had to be to one side, so the boys' parents could move around the room without breaking their necks. Plus, it taught them to clean up after themselves. But this resembled a bombsite.

"What is going on?" Gillian asked, her hands in angry curves as she directed the question to Lewis.

"Owen was throwing his poo at me." He placed his thumb over the fingernail of his index and middle finger and moved them out to make an 'H' hand shape. Then gripped his left fist around his right thumb and pulled the right hand down again. His face was disgusted.

"Why?"

"I don't know!" Lewis responded annoyed.

Knowing Owen, he had probably merely taken it upon himself now that he knew how to undo his diaper. Sometimes though, he was provoked or encouraged.

"Mum," Owen started.

Gillian held out a hand to stop him.

"But."

Gillian shoved the hand at him again, her attention on Lewis. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," Lewis pouted. He formed his hand into a zero.

And Gillian believed him. His face and body language was telling her that Owen had started this particular incident. "Owen," she turned to him. "Sit up."He was rolling around on his mattress, kicking his feet against the wall. He was still in the crib even though it had been modified because he was older, the base lowered closer to the floor, the bars taken down. They were about to get upgraded to bunks but that wasn't license to trash their current beds. Owen looked at her upside down, a smile on his face.

"Sit up," Gillian repeated firmly. Owen slowly turned over. He was two years and a few months and working towards potty training but he was trouble. He had figured out how to unstick the tabs on his diaper months ago, Gillian suspected Cal had shown him, he tended to do stupid things like that, and Owen's new favourite party trick was to take it off, as well as most of his clothes, and run around the house naked. If there was a tidy little surprise in there then it was an extra bonus and this was not the first time Owen had been caught flinging his own excrement. The first time, Lewis had encouraged it.

Also stupid.

When Owen was sitting on his knees Gillian approached and gingerly sat on the edge of his also messy bed keep her weight mostly on her legs; she better not be sitting in anything. Owen watched her expectantly. He had managed to get one arm out of his shirt, but otherwise had no other clothes on. "Owen," Gillian started. "You know you're not meant to take your diaper off."

"I go toilet," he responded, making a 'T' hand and shaking it back and forth.

"Then you go to the toilet," Gillian told him firmly. "And you do _not_ throw poo around the room!" Owen jigged where he sat and raised his arms in the air, giving a little grin, clearly, still finding it amusing. "What punishment do you think you should have?" She raised her left arm in the air, her hand a fist, and ran her index finger of her right hand from the elbow, beneath her arm, rapidly towards her hand and back again.

"No," Owen shook his head, the smile fading a little.

"Yes," Gillian nodded. "I think no TV the rest of today and all of tomorrow."

"No!" Owen crowed, his face clouding.

"Yes," Gillian confirmed and stood again. "Where did it land?" She asked her elder son. He pointed wordlessly towards the floor while Owen let out a scream that his mother ignored; she couldn't see anything where Lewis was pointing. She felt a hand or foot or something connect with the back of her leg and she turned slowly to regard Owen, her gaze heavy, her face angry and he cowered back, knowing he had pushed the line. "Do you want to make it two days?"

Owen pouted at her.

"Then you don't hit me," Gillian ground out, shaking her head, raising the index of her left hand and smacking it with her right fist. She turned back to Lewis. "Get some toilet paper and pick it up." She gestured her palms towards each other.

"Why me?" He curled his hands up in front of him and shrugged his shoulders.

"It's your room," Gillian shot back. "Or do you want to sleep with poo in here?" She brushed her hand down her face, so her fingers grouped together, then added 'poo'.

Lewis pouted this time, but he knew better than to argue, especially if he had somehow been involved.

"You can both do it." She signed 'together'. "And I'll be back in ten minutes to check on you."


	27. Chapter 27

"Let's go outside," Gillian directed, grouping her fingers in a brushing motion by her head. Owen looked up from where he was playing with miniature cars and trucks behind the three-seater couch, in front of the bookshelves, his and Lewis's little designated toy area in the living room. "Outside," he agreed, waving his arm in a similar motion but missing the definition of the fingers. His favourite colour was red at the moment and his t-shirt was bright while his shorts faded from frequent washing. Gillian could see he'd separated the pint-sized vehicles into red and every other colour. Sometimes Owen was seriously away in his own world.

"The clothes are ready," Gillian told him.

"Yup, yup, yup," Owen repeated following her down the hall in a squishy pull-ups waddle, punctuated by a few hurried steps to keep up.

Gillian waited at the stairs heading down into the garage for him, taking his hand to help him down, then closing the internal door behind them; habit. She headed through the garage to the laundry at the rear and unlocked the back door. "Ooooh out there!" Owen announced excitedly, toddling along behind his mother.

Gillian popped the lid of the washing machine open and crouched down in front of it to pull the wet clothes inside into the basket. "I help," Owen placed cold fingers on her leg to balance himself and reached in with his left. "Oooph."

"Thanks," Gillian gave him a quick kiss. "Very strong."

"Haft be verr strong," Owen agreed with a firm nod. He got to his feet before his mother and wandered away. Gillian lifted the basket and nudged the washing machine's door closed with the edge of her leg. "Mum!" Owen cried suddenly sounding desperate. "I stuck!" He was straddled across his plastic three wheeled motorcycle and he was running it against the weather-proof lip of the open back door.

"You have to lift it," Gillian instructed on a light laugh, adjusting her grip on the weight of the wet clothes against her hip.

"I can't!" Owen wailed, not even trying.

"The front," Gillian suggested. "Lift the front first."

Owen made a straining sound as he tried to pull on the red handle bars. Gillian laughed again softly, watching him; she knew better than to interfere before he was ready. He was at that stage where he wanted to do everything for himself, whether he had the skill level and experience or not. His face went red and he finally gave up. "Mum!" He cried again, turning to look at her, baleful blue eyes, so much like his brother.

"Would you like some help?"

"Help," Owen nodded with a pout, bringing his hands together, right fist in the palm of his left hand and directed them towards her.

Gillian put the washing basket on top of the dryer and got him to stand up. Owen climbed off the mini-motorbike and stood beside it while his mother lifted the handle bars to allow it to roll over the lip of the door and onto the concrete outside. "Oh yes!" Owen enthused, getting in close again. "I do it, I do it," he batted his mother away and lifted the back wheels, shoving the plastic bike right over the edge of the doorway and on to its side. "Oh no," he murmured to himself, hanging on to the door frame to step over the lip himself. While he righted the vehicle Gillian retrieved her washing and headed the few metres to the washing line on the edge of the backyard, in the brilliant sun.

While she hung the wet clothes up, Owen rode his bike around and around the back yard, taking the same path his big brother did on his two-wheeler, but having to push off the ground instead of peddling. He wanted a big bike like his 'bid brudda' but Cal told him he had to be big first; not yet. When she finished, Gillian snapped a picture of the two and a half year old. He would be going off to day care next week. Now that Lewis was settled back at school for another year, it was Owen's turn to start day care. He was old enough and it was time but Gillian was going to miss being at home with him.

She sent the picture to Cal along with an almost perfunctory 'your son'. After she sent it, she realised Owen was murmuring to himself slightly as he passed by in his wide loop. Gillian watched him for a while longer, fascinated. He didn't seem to be talking to anyone in particular and she couldn't hear what he was saying; sometimes she suspected he just liked the sound of his own voice; so different from his big brother.

"I'm going back inside now!" Gillian called to him. Also different from his big brother. Sometimes she forgot Owen was a hearing child, she was so used to having to go to Lewis to get his attention.

"Oh!" Owen looked surprised. He started making his way over to her, pushing his chubby legs against the ground, and when that wasn't fast enough he got up and dragged the bike towards her with one hand on a handle. "Me too. Me too Mummy." He placed an open hand against his mouth. Gillian felt a pang in her heart and held out her hand to him as he got closer, waiting patiently for him. His hands were warm now, sticky actually, and hot. "We go you and me," he told her as they started to head inside again.

Yeah, she was going to miss him.

**PJ**

Cal's phone buzzed in his pocket and he dug it out while saving the file he had been typing up with one hand. There was an email with an attachment and it was from Gillian. Cal opened it with anticipation. She often sent him messages during the day of whatever she and Owen had got up to, and sometimes from whatever she, Owen and Lewis had got up to when their elder boy was home from school. He loved getting them. Sometimes it reminded him of what he was missing out on, but most of the time it was a nice way to stay involved with their adventures; Gillian often had something planned for the afternoons before it was time to start dinner. She was a good mum.

Today it was a picture of Owen sitting on the toilet, nothing on but a bright red t-shirt, a triumphant grin and a shawl made of toilet paper. His pull-ups and shorts were a puddle beneath his feet, which were swinging from the bowl. There was a step to help him up but that didn't mean his little legs could reach. He was good at keeping himself dry during the days. Number two's were a bit of a different story and he needed to be in undies before he could start at day care. He didn't seem to take toilet-training too seriously and it was taking a lot of patience, but at least the terrible sixteen-to-twenty-seven-months seemed to have settled down a bit for him to be able to focus on something as complex as knowing when he needed to go to the toilet. Never mind the terrible two's; for Owen they had extended beyond the usual parameters.

Cal smiled to himself. The message at the bottom was the same as the message before, of him on his bike: your son. But there was also a 'success!' added as well and he knew Gillian would have been smiling while typing it out. Cal quickly jotted a note back, hitting send just as he was called away to a meeting. The sooner Gillian was back to deal with these mundane things the better. Two and-a-bit years had gone by quickly but still, Cal had reached his limit. As much as he knew Gillian wanted Owen to stay at home with her, the terror was getting to his limit as well. He needed to be in a learning environment with his peers while Gillian needed adult company and conversation. Cal needed his business partner back. He missed his wife.


	28. Chapter 28

Cal greeted Kim behind the desk and thanked her for his mail as he waltzed by. The door to his office was unlocked and the lights on, the blinds pulled. He had to power up his computer himself though and he sat at his desk flicking through the mail for something interesting while he waited. Why was it that Greenpeace could not take a hint? They'd been sending him mail at The Lightman Group for twenty years and he had never once replied. Cal binned the envelope and felt his phone start to vibrate in his pocket.

"All right?" Cal answered.

"Uh yes, I'm fine," Kate answered. Cal smirked to himself a little. Non-British tended to not understand the greeting too well. He wasn't necessarily expecting a response to his sister-in-laws well being.

"You wanna talk to Gill? She's not in yet."

"No I need to talk to you."

And Cal realised her voice sounded weird. He sat up straighter, paying attention. "What's goin' on?"

"Matthew had a call from his Mom at the hospital. It's his David. He's... gone."

'_Gone_,' Cal thought. The word could really imply so much but he coupled it with 'hospital' and the tone of voice and realised what Kate meant was that David had died. "When?" Cal asked tightly.

"This morning. They think it was a stroke. We're up at the hospital now."

"I'll tell Gill. Bring her up. Where are you exactly?" Cal felt his chest tighten. He had to write the name of the hospital down, to make sure it would stick in his brain. Gill was going to be...

"Thank you Cal," Kate responded thickly. "Mathew's just really not in the right place..."

"It's fine Kate. We'll see you soon," Cal cut her off. He wondered why Dana had not called Gillian herself, first, why Matthew? He checked his watch. Gillian would be here in about an hour, after she dropped Lewis off at school and then Owen off at day care. Cal ignored his computer. He thought about calling her, decided against it; this was news he should most definitely give in person. Instead, he picked up the phone to ask Kim to reschedule his day. And Gillian's for that matter. When she asked him if everything was ok he told her he would explain later; with Heidi that would have been enough of an explanation. Then he wandered down the hall to find Loker, to let him know he and Gillian had to step out for a few days. Loker nodded his understanding. Family came first in this place and it wasn't like he himself, Ria, even Heidi, hadn't taken leaves of absence to deal with something important. That was life. Things happened.

'_People died_.'

Cal headed back across the building to his office, checking his watch again. Gillian should be arriving soon. He headed past the portraits with the name of the business beneath. He reached the entrance and pushed open the door. Of course he wasn't going to corner Gillian before she actually got to work... that timing would be far too coincidental. He wondered if he should ring her anyway, tell her to meet him somewhere else. Like home. They could go home and he could tell her then. That was a good idea. A better idea. He pulled his phone and hit the speed dial.

"Hi," Gillian's voice was warm when she answered, but also distant, and Cal could hear traffic and the sound of the car engine in the background.

"Where are you?"

"On my way. I won't be long," she answered amiably.

"Don't come in. Meet me at home."

There was a slight silence and then, "Why? Is everything ok?"

What was he going to do? Lie. Say it was. Lure her into a false sense of security?

"Cal?"

"I'm gonna leave now and meet you at home all right?"

"What's wrong Cal?" Gillian's voice was firm again.

"I'm fine and the boys are fine and I'll tell you when I see you at home," Cal reiterated and hung up on her. He left immediately, like he said he was going to, felling bad, not remembering to tell Kim that he had left the building. Surely she could figure that out on her own. Either that or Loker would tell her when she inevitably asked him if he'd seen his boss.

When Cal pulled up Gillian was waiting. She looked edgy but not on the verge of a breakdown. She waited for him to come in and asked him again what was wrong and he took her by the hand and to the kitchen. "You're freaking me out," Gillian pulled on his arm hard, to get him to stop, and so that is where he told her, about her father dying of a suspected stroke, right there in the middle of the kitchen floor. Gillian blinked at him, unsure and disbelief in her eyes. Cal stood still, found himself nodding slightly, and holding on to her hand tightly. Gillian opened her mouth, blinked some more. "When?" She whispered. It must have sunk in then.

Cal stepped closer. "This mornin'. I don't know the details Gill. I'm sorry."

"How did you?"

"Kate called me," Cal finished. "Your Mum called Matthew." Gillian stood for a moment and her face slackened into shock and Cal got a little closer and put his arms around her firmly. She sank against him. "I'm sorry Gill," Cal murmured against her hair. He could feel her hands tremoring against either side of his waist. They stood there for a long time; Gillian just standing there. Cal pulled back slowly and saw her eyes were moist but she didn't seem to be crying. He caressed her cheek a little and had no idea what to say. He didn't know how to deal with grief; hers or his.

Cal grabbed Gillian's purse from its usual place on the breakfast bar and her car keys beside it and the box of tissues, just in case. Gillian watched him and went with him when he gently guided her towards the garage. She got in his car without prompting and they drove in silence to the hospital, while Cal thought very hard about how the hell he was going to handle this for her sake.

When they pulled up she turned to him and asked: "But why didn't Mom call me first?"

**PJ**

This was a conversation Cal had never had to have before either. With Em, well, it was well after the fact when he'd told her about the real story of her Grandmother's death and to be fair, she was very young when she started to realise they only ever went to see Zoe's parents, not Cal's. And that was also, again, very easy to explain because Grandpa lived in England and so did Uncle Thomas and Emily very rarely saw him anyway, so it was not much more of a stretch for her young mind to comprehend that there was no Grandma. But this, with the boys, telling them Granddad was dead, when they only saw him a few days ago, when they stayed over on the weekend sometimes; when Lewis had known him to be around his whole life and had vivid memories of building the model airplane and throwing it around the yard. Yeah, it was a freaking tough one. Owen was only just three and Cal wasn't sure he was going to understand the concept of death very well. He would certainly notice when he went to Grandma's house and there was no longer Grandpa; that was probably when the comprehension would start. Lewis was eight now and so he would probably understand right away and he would be devastated. That's how Cal predicted it. Gillian... well she wasn't exactly talking much.

Up at the hospital yesterday, Dana had been beside herself with grief, Matthew had been pretty shocked but upset as well, Cal felt like a mere observer and Gillian fell silent. He made sure everyone had coffee and that there were tissues and they went in to see David and talk to the doctors. The funeral was set for three days, over and done with quickly... So Cal and Gillian needed to have this conversation with their children soon. To give them time to process; to prepare them for a burial.

Cal couldn't help but think about the last one. Lily. Lewis remembered Lily. He didn't bring her up but he knew who she was and where she had come from (Aunt Kiera, not Mum's womb, and not Dad, a different man) and could identify photos. He knew the history. Cal wasn't sure if he remembered or his memories were reinforced by stories he had been told. Did he remember going up to the lake? Cal only barely remembered it. He suspected it was a memory his brain had been quite happy to forget.

"I want to tell them," Gillian suddenly announced.

Cal looked over at her surprised. That was probably the most she had said in the last twenty-four hours. That and 'goodnight, I love you,' to the boys when they were tucked in to bed. Cal was pretty sure he hadn't even seen her cry yet. "Sure, yeah, you can tell them," he agreed.

Gillian turned towards the stove to stir the pasta. "Alone."

Cal wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. He stopped dicing the onion and looked over his shoulder at her and after a moment's silence, the only the sound the buzz of the extractor fan, Gillian turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were heavy with things unsaid and her shoulders drawn under the weight of a grief she was not letting out yet.

The reason Dana hadn't called her? It was unclear. She said something about not being sure who she had called but Cal knew Gillian was taking that personally. She was the eldest. She was also the only girl. She was supposed to be closer to her mother. She was supposed to be the one her mother called first in a family emergency. She was hurting.

Cal found himself giving a nod and he turned back to his work and couldn't believe he had agreed to that. What was she even going to tell them? They had always tackled these tough situations together. He didn't want to be cut out of an important aspect of his kid's lives. And he didn't think Gillian was in the right frame of mind to be able to handle it alone anyway. She was bottling and Cal hadn't found the right time to confront her about it. Probably after the funeral would be better, because then she wouldn't be expected to put on a front anymore. Also, it gave Cal a bit of time to figure out what the hell he was meant to say.


	29. Chapter 29

"Goodnight," Gillian offered quietly as she put the light out, avoiding his eye and turning on her side to sleep.

"Night," Cal murmured, staring up at the ceiling, shifting the cover to dispel a little pocket of air that made his skin tingle. Three days practically of silence. Not the silent _treatment_, but just, not talking much. The funeral was yesterday and it was all very respectable and sombre; Dana was all about appearances. Matthew and Kate's kids cried. They were all teenagers now and Arianna got up with her sister and brother and said a few words about what a nice Granddad they had. Lewis was crying and Owen was probably more fascinated by why everyone was wearing black and acting upset, than understating what was going on. Gillian held him in her lap, murmuring in his ear but Cal had no idea what she said. He felt like an outsider. He'd never felt like he was looking in before.

Beside him, Gillian sighed and settled again on the mattress, turning over to her back, mimicking Cal's position. After they had taken Owen off the breathing monitor they stayed awake at night listening for his breaths on the baby monitor. After they took away the baby monitor, Cal used to get up a few times in the night to check on him. Now that he was three, the fear had lessened, but when Cal felt unsettled, he still got up to check on the boys. He did that now, quietly slipping out of the main bedroom and padding down the hall. Lewis had had a night light but Owen didn't and Cal suspected that was because Lewis had been alone but Owen had his big brother. Lewis was facing the wall and Cal could barely see him up on the top bunk. Owen was curled up in a ball around his pillow. Cal straightened the covers a little and brushed his hand against his boy's warm cheek, feeling a pang of emotion welling up in his stomach. He waited a moment, listening to both of them breathing and then pulled the door closed on the way out.

Gillian was not asleep when Cal came back and he wanted to talk to her or hold her but she hadn't let him in the last few days and really, he was still waiting for her cue that she wanted his comfort, or to let him back in. He understood, people grieved in their own way. With Lily it had been different because he had been right there with her and this time, well he had already buried his father so he wasn't exactly in the same place as she was right now and he got all that, he did, but he also missed her and he also felt useless. And he wondered what he was meant to do.

Within seconds of settling once again in bed, Gillian was on him, pressing her lips against his. Cal was surprised and still for a moment, until he felt her hand sliding down his body, stroking along the length of him. He jerked a little and dislodged her mouth. She shifted to his jaw. "Gill," he groaned out. '_What are you doin'?_' He grabbed her hand and pulled it away and she gave a displeased squeak in her throat but she didn't give up teasing his skin with her teeth. "Gill," Cal tried again, pushing her away gently.

"Shh," Gillian responded softly. She found his mouth in the dark once more, sliding over his waist to straddle him.

Cal gave a little huff and tried to hold on to some clarity. But she was good and she knew exactly how to distract him and for a long moment he was giving in... he was giving in... and... "Gill," he tried again. "No." This wasn't right.

"Make love to me Cal," Gillian's voice was thin against his cheek and she pushed down with her hips and it wasn't fair. So wasn't fair.

Cal tipped her to the side, knocking her back to the mattress, but he was on her within a second, pressing kisses down her throat and chest, biting her breast, making her squirm beneath him. He knew all the ways too. He knew all the ways to make her forget and he did, sliding against her so slowly and carefully and then faster until it was almost too much and he forgot too. Her fingernails scratched at his lower back as she clung on to him and when she finally stopped shaking she held him for a moment longer.

Cal kicked himself. So much for being there for her; so much for being the one in control right now. He pressed a kiss against her damp hairline and tried to take some of his weight back on his arms but she clung tighter. "Don't go," she murmured. Cal dug his arm behind her shoulders, embracing her against his chest, pressing his cheek against hers, so his face was smothered by her hot hair. He waited. And then his arms started to ache and this time he really did move away, just to the side, so he was lying beside her, still holding her, still kissing her gently, hoping that he could make her feel loved and connected and not like her world had shattered recently.

"Talk to me," Cal murmured, smoothing a hand along her cheek, repeating the movement to push back the hair from her warm skin.

"That was great."

Cal smirked a little. "Not what I meant."

"I know," Gillian sighed but Cal could hear the tightness of her voice. She was smiling, or trying not to. "But still."

"Magic," Cal whispered.

Gillian snuggled closer and Cal had to throw back the blanket so he didn't black out from the smothering heat. He held his wife firmly, her sticky skin against his; he could feel his heart warming to the situation. They had made love and were talking more than two words in a sentence and Gillian was actually smiling again. That was a good thing. "My Dad," she started.

"I know," Cal cut in. And he _did_ know. Suddenly he realised he _knew_. Her childhood, her whole life, had been scarred and while sometimes she might have been able to cover that up and forget for just a little while, Cal knew, scars never truly disappeared, they just faded. They were always there. Sometimes it was possible to forget but other times there were rude remembrances. He had his fair share of scars.

"Fuck," Gillian whispered and Cal felt her shudder and heard her sob and thought '_finally'_. He let her cry on him, wetting his skin with her tears. He didn't know the entire ins and outs of it, but he knew some of the stories; when her father was too drunk to walk straight. When she'd made decisions to not get in the car with him and walk Matthew to school. How she had tried to talk to her mother. How he had slept drunkenly through many birthdays. How he was just never there. At one time she thought he was having an affair; and he was, with a bottle. How he had struck her mother once. How her mother refused to acknowledge anything, how she refused to talk about anything. How Gillian and Matthew used to hide in the backyard in a little hut they'd made, with a gap in the fence that led to the neighbours place so they could break out, just in case they needed it; their emergency escape hatch. The relief Gillian felt when she could finally leave and go to college; the guilt she felt at leaving Matthew behind; the relief when her mother finally kicked her father out; the guilt that Matthew had been there to witness it. How her mother despised her for leaving, for having the strength, for understanding more about drinking problems than she did.

Cal held his wife until his arms ached and still didn't let go. He didn't say anything, just let her cry; he had no idea what to say anyway. Words were not a requirement. When she started to sniff and blubber a little Cal leaned over her to retrieve tissues from the box on the table beside the bed. Gillian took them and Cal heard the rustle of paper over skin; his chest and her nose. He shifted on to his back, letting the blood flow back into other parts of his body, his skin tingling without the warmth of her pressed so tightly. His heart felt heavy for her. And he murmured that he was sorry.

"_I'm_ sorry," Gillian echoed.

"What for?"

"Crying all over you."

"That's a legal requirement in marriage."

"Funny, I don't remember reading that in our marriage license."

"Was in the small print." Cal felt the shift of Gillian's arm as she threw the tissues to the floor and leaned against him again. "I'm sorry Gill," Cal smoothed his fingers up her arm.

"I don't even know how to feel about it."

Cal waited for her to go on. This was out of his depth, this touchy feely type of conversation. He needed Gillian to lead it.

"My whole childhood... and then... Mom kicking him out... and I thought..." she paused a little. "And then him and Mom reconciling..."

At least his family history was black and white, Cal thought to himself. It was a lot less complicated than Gillian's. His mother had killed herself. There wasn't any confusion about that; there was no way she could rectify that. Cal stroked his wife's arm again.

"I have to tell you something."

"All right," Cal agreed, focussing once again on her. That sounded ominous.

"Mom told me... Dad was... drinking again."

"Oh darlin'," Cal murmured. Drink induced stroke? Could be a very real possibility.

"I think she wanted me to do something you know? I don't know what. I didn't know what to do when she told me."

That could also explain why she didn't call Gillian first.

"Wait," Cal interrupted gently. "When was this?"

There was a pause before Gillian answered. "A few months ago," she admitted weakly.

"A few months ago!" Cal repeated surprised.

"Six months ago."

"Six months! Gill!" He started and then his mind cottoned on to another implication. "Fuck Gillian our boys went ova there! They stayed with your parents." He sat up, Gillian falling away abruptly. "How could you? When he was drunk?"

"He wasn't _drunk_," Gillian offered meekly. "I said he was drinking. He had it under control."

"He's a fuckin' _alcoholic_ Gillian!" Cal spat. "He can't control it. By definition!" Cal dug his hand through his hair, feeling the edge of the scar on his temple. "I can't believe you. You knew and you let our children go ova there?" He turned to her, eyes accusing even in the dark. His heart was beating uncomfortably. "God anythin' could have happened."

"Mom was there the whole time. She never left them alone with him."

"Not the fuckin' point. It's our job to protect them. I would neva have let him in this house if I knew he was drinkin' again."

"I know," Gillian responded softly. She was sitting too now, beside him, but not touching. Cal could see her head hung low, ashamed in the deepest way. He wanted to tell her she was stupid and she had betrayed him. He wanted to scream at her for being weak and for exposing their children to all the shit in the world before he had a chance to prepare them for it and then a little voice told him it wasn't always that easy. It wasn't black and white.

"You lied to me."

"I didn't," Gillian's head came up.

"No you did," Cal told her firmly, feeling sick. "You kept somethin' from me that was important. On purpose." And he wanted to add that she always did this to him. She shut him out when he really should be there for her the most and New York came to mind and he was afraid and he knew she was upset, grieving and he should be supportive but... God... she _did this _to him. Things _happened_ to Cal, but Gillian _did_ this to him, on purpose.

"Cal, let's talk about it. I can explain."

"No I don't wanna hear your explanation," Cal spit out. It was like he wasn't even talk to Gillian anymore and he thought about going to sleep on the couch. He really was so very tempted but he had never done that. Ever. And he wasn't going to start now because, while he was pissed off, freaking livid with her right now, he didn't want to shit on their marriage. It was in the past, and her father was dead, and no one was worse off, except maybe Gillian, and him too now because she had done this to them...

Cal threw himself back down on the mattress. He couldn't believe it. He really couldn't. It just did not sit right. How could she? How did she even think she could justify it?

"You're not going to talk?" Gillian asked meekly, trying to fight back but knowing she had no legs to stand on and nothing for support. And Cal realised, if her mother had told her about David's drinking it was because she _had_ wanted help, or support in some way and Gillian had not done that either. It was all very messed up and most certainly warranted a discussion. But... but... he was fucked off with her.

"Not right now," Cal answered tightly, his throat burning with all the horrible things he wanted to say but would never allow himself to utter. Once they were said, there was no way to take them back. "Let me sleep on it. So I'm not so fuckin' angry." He took a deep breath and when he spoke again his voice was calmer, he was more in control. "I need to sleep on it Gill. We'll talk tomorrow." And he closed his eyes and turned his back on her and that felt bad enough but was necessary. He felt the mattress shift as she laid herself down too and then there was a deathly, tense kind of silence and Cal felt the need to get up to check on the boys again, to remind himself that they were just fine.


	30. Chapter 30

Cal stewed. He stewed most of the night, too tense to sleep, his brain wound too tightly, too many thoughts and too much anger. In the morning he drifted off and slept like a rock for a few hours. He woke to the sound of his phone and reached for it blindly. It was his alarm, but he hadn't set it. Confused, he turned over, shoulders stiff from lying in one strained position all night and found Gillian gone, her side of the bed made, the curtains open a little to let in some light, a damp warmness coming from the slightly open bathroom door and silence. So. She had got up, had a shower, dressed and gone to get the boys, setting his alarm to wake him when she had gone.

Cal lay on his back a moment, letting his adrenaline heart rate return to normal. With each breath the made himself relax a little more. Maybe he had over reacted last night. Maybe he hadn't. It could have been a lot worse and he considered himself justified and relatively controlled considering. Yeah, all right, so maybe it wasn't a big deal the boys being over there while her father was drinking because it wasn't like he had been left alone with them, that Gillian knew anyway... nope. He couldn't justify it the other way. And he had every right to be angry. The only thing going for the situation was that it was in the past. And that David was now dead, which meant there would not be a repeat. And Gillian was grieving.

Damn it.

Cal threw back the cover and stumbled out of bed. He kicked his underwear away, suddenly remembering _last night_ and really, could her timing have been worse? She makes love to him and then drops that on him and how else did she think he would have reacted? Deceased parent did not trump the safety of his children. It did not. Maybe he was being short-sighted.

Cal had a shower and shaved and got dressed in his nice work trousers and a shirt. He slipped his shoes on, leaning on the bed to tie the laces, and headed downstairs. His schedule was tight. He might have to skip breakfast. When he got to the kitchen Gillian was making lunches at the bench, the boys were finishing their breakfast at the table, talking to each other about which was the better fighter the great white shark or a white tiger; more talking than eating. Lewis signed rapidly and Owen tried to keep up mentally; tough when there was five years between them.

Gillian sort of, half looked over at Cal, glancing at his feet more than anything further north than that. Cal watched as her shoulders tensed, like she was bracing for the worst. They had never fought in front of their kids either and Cal sure as hell was not going to start now. Some conversations were just for the adults in the house.

"I made you coffee," she offered, pointing absently to a mug on the bench.  
>"Thanks," Cal reached for it. He sipped. Luke-warmish; but the thought was there and he could just drink it all straight away without scalding his tongue and throat. "Thanks for lettin' me sleep-in too."<p>

"Yeah I figured you got about as much as I did," Gillian turned her gaze back to the sandwiches on the board.

"Look Gill, last night I was angry," Cal started softly, stepping closer so his words were directed at her only.

"I know. And you had a right to be," she interrupted, her voice just as low. "I still want to talk," her eyes wavered nearer but still, she would not look at him.

"All right. Great. Cos I still want to listen."

She lifted her head further, glanced at his face and when she saw he was not angry or holding anything in his eyes but compassion she dared to look again and actually hold his gaze. She looked unsure and Cal decided he wasn't angry anymore. He stepped a little closer, knowing it should be soon, their conversation, before this... whatever it was, became an irreproachable rift. "Maybe afta you drop the boys off?"

"Ok, sure," Gillian agreed easily with a nod.

Cal nodded himself. "I have to go."

"Take something for breakfast," Gillian directed.

Cal reached for an apple, almost laughed, almost teased her for mothering. But left without saying anything else to her. He said good morning and goodbye to his sons, but he left without saying anything else to her.

**PJ**

Cal kept his office door open for Gillian for after she dropped off the boys and they were meant to talk. He wanted to pace. He wasn't sure what to say and a part of him was nervous. He was usually so good at reading the signs and clearly he had missed something that was on her mind. Unless it was merely about her father's death and there wasn't some other big, deep seated problem that had been festering away for months on end. Also, he had a right to be angry about her keeping that kind of information from him, he did, but also, her father had died and so he was torn between empathy and vindication and...

He heard Gillian's voice in the corridor before she came in; she must have been talking to Kim. A pang of nerves hit him again and he reminded himself to not judge, to just listen to her, hear her out before he came to a conclusion and then talk calmly about how he felt. Because that was what good communication was about and he really shouldn't jump to conclusions before he had all the information. Mostly, he didn't want to be in a fight with his wife. That's not what they did.

Gillian gave him a tentative smile as she approached his desk, like she couldn't help it on seeing him but felt she shouldn't give any indication this was a laughing matter. Cal got up. Surprisingly, he still didn't feel angry anymore, even after having an hour and a half to think about it. At least, he wasn't angry with her.

"Shall we..." Gillian gestured towards his study and Cal nodded that it was a good idea. They headed towards it, Cal letting Gillian go first, and Cal pulling the door closed behind them. Gillian perched on the red couch under the window and Cal sat next to her, close, their knees touching. He wondered if he should start...

"Ok so let me explain," Gillian started. Cal nodded she should go on. She sighed and it looked like _a lot_ of tension drained out of her. Cal studied the lines of her face, the grey at her temple and suddenly realised something. She had been dealing with her father's drinking for a really long time and surely that was a terrible burden to bear. But it seemed harder to explain than either of them thought because she sat for a while silently, fidgeting with a fingernail.

Cal took her hand and covered it with his. He didn't exactly dwarf her but he was still bigger and stronger and maybe in this situation, he would be stronger again. "Gill. I was really angry last night and I'm sorry for goin' off," he started.

Gillian met his eye. "You had a right to be." She looked stricken and Cal gave her fingers a squeeze of reassurance.

"It doesn't matta now, with the boys. It's in the past."

"And I really should _not_ have done that to them, or you. Mom told me it was fine, he wasn't drinking that much, just a few here and there and you know? She used to say that to me when I was _eight_. And it _wasn't_ fine." Gillian looked over at him with tears in her eyes and Cal felt a pang of sadness on her behalf. "I have no idea why I let myself get sucked in to that all over again. It's pathetic."

"Oh come on," Cal went to interrupt.

"I thought I was beyond that now. You know? I thought I had dealt with it and moved on or something I don't know," she shook her head and looked away and Cal realised in the way she held her shoulders that she was ashamed. "I promised myself I would never go back to that time... that I would never let him do that to me again, and worse, this time, I got my kids involved."

"Why didn't you put your foot down?" Cal asked gently.

Gillian sighed again. "I don't know. I think because the little girl inside me is still in denial, is still hoping he has it under control... that he'll stop." She looked up and met his eye again and he could see the wetness was still there. "I don't know how to say no."

"But you do," Cal reminded her. "You left rememba?"

Gillian looked down at her lap, at their hands clasped together. She nodded, but maybe college had just been a convenient excuse. "I don't know what to say." Cal shifted his hand to put his arm around her. He pulled her against his shoulder and gave her a squeeze. He didn't know what to say either. "I think I was still afraid of him, of rejecting him."

Now Cal _really_ didn't know what to say.

"He was my father, you know?"

Cal nodded.

"And I loved him," Gillian went on, her voice breaking a little. Cal gave her another squeeze. Really, if it weren't for the fact that David had just died, he doubted he would be so understanding right now. He would be having a go at her and making all kinds of demands and probably a few stupid threats he'd regret later.

"I just wanted him to be able to stop," Gillian sobbed and Cal turned her into a tight full body hug.

"I undastand Gill," he soothed a hand up and down her back slowly. "I get it darlin'." And he did. Exchange 'dad' for 'mum' and she could be talking about his relationship with his mother. Except she was gone and never coming back and she had never managed overtures towards false hope. "It's hard to tell them they're not good enough."

"Yes," Gillian agreed.

They were silent for a moment. Cal felt Gillian reaching up with a hand to wipe her cheeks; had to get in quick before her make-up made a mess. "You know," he started again. "Darlin'. You could have told me and I would have told him, if you were afraid to. You could have made me the bad guy."

Gillian pulled back a little. "I didn't want to drag you in to it."

"It's not draggin' me in to it Gill. We're married. My family too. I'll be the bad guy for you."

Gillian's eyes softened. She gave a little nod. "I made a mistake."

"Nothin' happened to the boys while they were there?"

She shook her head adamantly 'no'.

"Were they even around him while he was drinkin'?"  
>"They might have been."<p>

Cal suppressed a sigh. He wondered if he should sit the boys down and talk to them about it. Or maybe drawing attention to it would merely highlight the fact that something was wrong. They might not have even noticed. If David was only drinking a bit... he might have been completely sober when the boys were there, for all Cal knew. For all Gillian knew. She didn't seem to know and Cal was starting to feel like he was beating a dead horse with a switch.

It was in the past, he reminded himself. That was what was going to get him through his. His wife was admitting a mistake and it was in the past and no one got hurt. Cal gave Gillian's arm another squeeze and sat back against the couch, pulling her along with him. She held him tighter and then they fell silent.


	31. Chapter 31

"Daddy!"

Cal turned, unsure if that was Owen or Lewis calling out. They sounded the same sometimes, if he wasn't looking. It was Lewis. "Hey," he greeted his son with a smile, bending over slightly to wrap his arms around his seven year old's shoulders. He was about to ask where his mother was when he heard the rapid clip of her heels against the floor. Owen was tugging her into the room behind him, running and pulling.

"Dad!" He pointed, successful grin on his face. He let go of his mother's hand to run across the room. Cal stooped to scoop him up. Owen threw his arms around him in an embrace and Cal caught his wife's eye. She looked a little harried.

"What are you lot doin' here?"

Gillian raised an eyebrow slightly. She didn't even have to voice her snide comment, Cal knew it already. "I meant," Cal went on quickly while Owen pressed cold fingers against his neck. "You don't come to see me often, all togetha."

"Lewis wanted to come and say hello," Gillian sat herself on his couch. Cal could practically hear her sigh. Lewis hovered around Cal's feet and Owen started to get heavy. Cal headed for the couch as well, sitting awkwardly while trying to shift the toddler clinging to his shoulders. Lewis climbed up to sit between his parents and they shifted to make enough room. "We were in town," Gillian went on.

"Oh right," Cal clicked. Lewis needed new school shoes. That's why they were in town and that's why they were in the neighbourhood to come visit. "Did you get some Lew?"

Lewis watched his hands, then looked up and nodded.

"What about you Batman," Cal shifted Owen to see his face. "Did you get new shoes today too?"

Owen nodded.

"No you didn't," Gillian corrected with a half laugh. "But he tried on lots of new shoes."

"Ah," Cal noted. No wonder she was tired and feeling harassed. Taking Owen shopping was borderline nightmare. Everything was fascinating. "So, shall we go home now?"

"Dad you come too," Lewis told him. He used 'as well'; a 'Y' hand moved back and forth in front of the body.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Owen agreed. He jabbed a finger into his father's chest. "You."

Cal nodded. "I'll come as well. In five minutes, all right?" He looked around the blonde head of his two year old, who was fingering the button on his shirt at his throat, to see his elder son. "All right?" He moved his hand from a 'five' to and 'O' and a 'K'.

Lewis nodded. "I'll count." He made an 'F' hand and drew that index finger and thumb over the palm of his left hand, away from himself. Then he held up his right wrist with his new watch on it and stared at the numbers on the dial.

Cal gave a slight smirk and got to his feet again, shifting Owen to dump him in his mother's lap. Then Cal leaned down to give her a kiss. "Five minutes, promise."

"Four and a half," Gillian countered softly, her arms coming up protectively around the toddler. Cal kissed her again but she pulled away abruptly, wincing. Owen had shifted and was kneeling in the soft part of her thigh. He slapped his hands against her chest and she caught both of them, telling him to be gentler with her. Cal thought she looked tired, worn; thank god it was Friday. Perhaps they needed a quiet weekend.

Cal went to his desk and started to shut down everything and put files away safely for the two days he was not going to be there. Kim buzzed through to say she was leaving and Cal agreed that was fine. Then there was a light tap on the door and everyone looked up. Eli was standing there, looking a little unsure, and beside him, a blonde woman, smiling pleasantly. They came in further. "Uh hi, I was just coming to say I'm heading off now."

"All right," Cal said neutrally.

"Eli!" Lewis scrambled off the couch. He rushed towards the other man and hugged his waist. "I got a new watch. See?" He pointed to his eyes and then to Eli and then made an 'F' hand shape and placed it over his actual watch on his wrist.

"Wow, that's really cool," Eli enthused appropriately.

Gillian got up, putting Owen on the floor. He toddled over to his big brother, tilting his head way back to see the taller people. "Tick tick tick!" He announced. "It go tick, tick."

"Is that the sound it makes?" Eli asked him, bending over a little to reduce the distance between them. Owen nodded and stuck his fingers in his mouth. Eli turned to the woman he was with, who was holding his hand with a delighted smile. "This is Owen," he introduced, and then did the same for Lewis. Gillian approached, a smile on her face, interest in her demeanour. Eli introduced her as well and Cal in the back who was finishing up with his computer, listening in. "This is Faye."

"Hi," Faye spoke up.

"Is she your friend?" Lewis asked, interlocking his index fingers twice. Eli nodded.

"It's nice to meet you," Gillian offered, shaking the other woman's hand.

"Oh you too. Eli talks about you a lot."

Eli looked away embarrassed as Cal approached. Cal offered his hand as well and shook with Faye. She gave him a smile and he noted the blue eyes and sharp nose, the small chin and high cheek bones. She was beautiful when she smiled, otherwise he might not have paid much attention. It was hard to pay any attention when Gillian was in the room and he wasn't just saying that. He should tell Gillian that, it would earn him brownie points.

Lewis started to show Eli and Faye the cool things his watch could do; it had its own alarm and a light to see in the dark. Gillian bent to pick up Owen, who had a habit of pinching the back of her thighs to get her attention, asking Faye what she did for a living and other prying questions that saved Cal from doing the same even though he was only mildly interested; how long had they been dating, where was she from, how did they meet?

"Eli comes in to get coffee from the bakery," Faye responded with another warm smile.

"That's nice," Gillian smiled again, all pleasant, while Owen pinched at the exposed skin around her collarbone. "Ow!" Gillian complained. "That hurts me!"

Owen pouted at her.

"Here," Cal held out his arms to take the boy. Gillian handed him over and Cal tucked him tightly against his body to stop the squirming.

"Mum I'm hungry," Lewis announced, turning towards her and pulling a 'C' hand down his body.

Gillian placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ok," she signed. "But we're talking," she twirled a finger by her mouth. "We'll go soon." She rubbed two 'H' hands against each other, edge of middle finger of right hand on top of the index finger of her left hand. Lewis didn't really respond to that but he stood quietly as if he were actually going to wait patiently. It was enough though; Faye graciously said they shouldn't really keep the kids if it was their dinner time, which it was certainly getting close to. Gillian told her it was very nice to meet her and to not be a stranger around the building. Cal watched Eli relax a little and was amused that the man, who was in his thirties now, who had been with the Lightman Group almost from the beginning, had actually been seeking out their approval.

They really were like a family around here.

Cal paid more attention when they started saying good bye. He dutifully added it was nice to meet Faye. Lewis asked loudly if they were leaving now, to which Gillian replied they were and he grinned his approval. He pushed past the big people and headed down the hall. Owen squirmed to be let go too but Cal was not in the mood for chasing after him so held him tighter; the little blighter had a habit of getting little fingers into little places they should not be. Way worse than Lewis ever was.

"Oi Lewis!" Cal called after him and the boy actually turned. "Are you gonna say goodbye?"

"Oh," Lewis rushed back to hug his father.

"Not me," Cal laughed. "I'm comin' with you. What about Eli?" He finger-spelled it quickly. "And Faye?" He finger spelled her name slower, so Lewis could see the sequence.

Lewis hugged Eli around the hips again and then turned to Faye. He hesitated ever-so-slightly and then hugged her too. She laughed, pleased, and hugged him back, thanking him. "This is thank you," Lewis showed her, moving his hand from his mouth, outwards.

Faye repeated it. "Thank you."

Lewis nodded, satisfied and then waved and took off again.

"Oooh, ooooh, oooooooh," Owen mimicked, making the same movement; though his fingers were a bit more relaxed than the sign officially required.

"Very good," Cal told him, signing 'good' and giving him a kiss of encouragement.

"He's such a sweetie. And so smart," Faye gushed after Lewis. She asked about his hearing as they walked to the exit, and Gillian explained. Cal also thought it amusing both he and Eli let their women do the talking. Usually, Gillian would tell him off for staying out of a conversation. Clearly, the novelty of meeting Eli's girlfriend, the only one they had met in the last five years, gave the both of them a free pass.

They reached the doors where Lewis was waiting, fidgeting with his watch again. Owen begged to be put down but now they were headed out to the street there was definitely no way. He whined and Cal told him to just wait a second more. Owen screech and Cal told him off for making a noise that could hurt Daddy's ears.

"We really _should_ go," Gillian noted, smoothing her hand around the back of Owen's head as he tried to throw himself out of his father's grip.

"We have dinner reservations," Eli noted.

"It was very nice meetin' you," Cal spoke up.

Faye gave him a smile. "You too, finally. Eli talks about you all the time."

Cal gave a slight smirk until he felt Gillian's hand on his shoulder, squeezing, telling him to keep his mouth shut and behave, to not embarrass. Cal headed for the door while Gillian said the last of the goodbyes and told Lewis he could push it open to leave. Gillian was not far behind them, waving over her shoulder, then she slipped her hand in to the crook of Cal's elbow as they walked along towards their cars. She was parked next to him. "Faye seems really nice."

"Hm," Cal agreed.

"Which one?" Lewis asked, hands curled up in a 'wh' question.

"Either," Gillian told him. She held up her left hand, and danced the middle and index finger of her right hand over the top of the left index and middle finger. Lewis went to his father's car. "Favouritism," Gillian murmured against Cal's ear as they approached.

"You can have this one," Cal swung Owen towards her, practically throwing him. Owen let out a startled squeal but Cal only let go once he knew Gillian had a grip. He gave her a quick kiss. "See you at home."

"Maybe," Gillian shot back.

Cal gave her a grin as he backed away to the driver's side of his car, remotely unlocking the door for the waiting Lewis. "Whateva," he retorted. "You can't stay away."

Gillian narrowed her eyes at him slightly, unlocking her own vehicle to put Owen in his car seat. She shook her head too but just as Cal went to look away he caught the edge of her smile and it made his heart flutter a little.


	32. Chapter 32

It was harder than it looked. Or maybe it was just that Gillian was far more limber than Cal was. Either way, she was totally upstaging him right now, holding her body in almost impossibilities, stretching her muscles effortlessly. Cal wasn't even leering over her like he actually thought he would be, as she put her body on display. Watching her stretch and pose and strain her muscles wasn't sexual at all, even if it was impressive. He could probably make it that way, dirty, but it was actually more admirable. Her body was beautiful; he didn't know why she was ashamed of it. She'd had a baby. She'd created life and brought it in to the world; wasn't that something to celebrate?

He got it though, he did. Gillian was going to feel whatever she did about her body despite what he said. Didn't mean he was going to quit on telling her she was beautiful, and that he wanted her, but maybe he had given up a little on trying to unequivocally convince her of his point of view. He wasn't going to change his mind. He was attracted to her, mind _and_ body. He was never going to stop telling her that. Maybe one day it would sink in and she wouldn't feel so insecure about herself anymore. He had his truth and she could have hers and this was actually really nice, working out together.

They were on the floor of their bedroom, working through an intense yoga programme, if there was such a thing. Gillian had started it up again as soon as Owen quit crying so much and was more settled and able to be left alone for more than half an hour. Not that she'd stick him in the other room and ignore him. No way. Not with the way he stopped breathing periodically. It had been the same with Lewis. She did light yoga when she was pregnant and then after the baby had been born she stepped it up a notch to lose the baby weight. This was better actually, because she couldn't leave the house with Owen's set of unique issues.

After a few weeks of Gillian re-initiating her routine, Cal admitted he could do with being more in shape too; he never did get back to the gym. Plus, it was the perfect excuse to spend time with his wife, even if it was merely just spending some time with her; it wasn't like they were having a heart to heart conversation right now. Cal was actually a little too breathless for that. He was surprised because he thought it'd be like a stroll through the park. But it was more like an intense jog. He was pretty sure some of the workouts were Pilates too. Cal thought for sure he would eventually get bored and just smother her into fooling around with him, all warm and sweaty and in tight clothes, her breasts huge right now with milk and her hair pulled back from her face with those little stray strands framing her temples. But no. He was actually focused on the lines of her body and the discipline and watching her mentally focus. It was remembering to see her in another light.

"You're staring."

Cal blinked and realised she had shifted positions and he moved to do the same to mimic her. "Sorry."

"Are you paying attention to me or what you're doing?" She reprimanded and even though Cal couldn't see her face, he could tell she was teasing.

"I said sorry!" Cal grumped.

"You can look," she offered lightly, then let out a steady breath. He smiled to himself slightly and focussed on his own breathing, finding that place where he was far too in touch with his own body, his muscles tight with holding his position; he was hyper aware. "I'm glad you still look," Gillian added after a moment's comfortable silence.

"Course," Cal responded simply.


	33. Chapter 33

Ugh god it felt like shards of glass being pushed behind his eyes while a hammer pounded against the side of his head. Cal pressed the heels of his hands into the sockets of his eyes, trying to shut out the pain. He'd go months without an attack like this. Actually, it could have been more than a year since he last had a headache this bad. And he knew it wasn't just a stress headache or a dehydration drumming, or a throb brought on by not enough sleep. This was about his head injury and even though it had been two and a half years since the accident occurred, he was still not completely symptom free. Sometimes, when he needed it the most, he could not for the life of him remember something simple, like the postal address for the Lightman Group.

At this point, it was more disheartening than frustrating.

"Hey," a soft voice called. Cal straightened up again, attempting to fix his mask, and then he saw it was Gillian, Owen's car seat in one hand, her purse slung over her shoulder, and the baby bag in her other hand. She gave him a concerned expression and he shifted to get up and help her with her load but she had already put the baby bag down on one of the chair's opposite his desk; she gestured he should stay where he was. "Are you ok?" She almost whispered, setting the sleeping Owen on the other chair, facing them, so they could see; just in case.

"Fine," Cal croaked and mother of god it was worse when he moved his jaw.

"You're such a liar," Gillian accused. Satisfied Owen was stable in his car seat, cords clear and his airway unobstructed, Gillian came around the desk to lean against it in front of him. She reached out and very lightly ran her fingers through his hair, on the side of his scar and it actually helped. "Headache huh?" She practically whispered.

Cal thought about nodding, thought better of it. "Just struck me outta nowhere."

"Did you take something?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to move. I think there's a possibility I'll blow chunks."

Gillian's lip quirked slightly.

"Or get up and black out," Cal added with a groan he immediately regretted.

"Is it a migraine? Because you should come home if you're that bad."

"I don't think so," Cal grimaced. He was having a hard time raising his eyes to meet hers, which wasn't really helping his cause. "It's just a poundin' ache."

"You know there are pills in your desk. You don't have to leave the room. You could wheel yourself to the study and lie down for a few minutes."

"There's what where?"

Gillian got up again and turned, crouching down to Cal's middle drawer. She pulled it open slowly and carefully and took out a white medicine bottle. Still, crouching, she twisted off the cap and tapped out two of the tablets, reaching out her hand to drop them into his. Cal took them wordlessly, too uncomfortable to be surprised. "Did you put those there?" He asked, watching her put the lid back on.

"Yes. After the last time you had a bad headache. I did tell you."

He must have forgotten. "Thank you," he was grateful.

"Water?" Gillian offered and reached in to the drawer again to produce a bottle, still sealed.

Cal vaguely wondered how she had snuck that in and, more importantly, how had he not noticed? While he swallowed the pain medication he wondered at what else slipped beneath his radar. Was he still on top of his game?

"You'll feel better," Gillian murmured, taking the water from him and reclaiming her perch against his desk. Cal scooted his chair closer to her, so she was standing within the embrace of his thighs and rested his head against her stomach, wrapping his arms around her back and sighing. Gillian smoothed her fingers over his head lightly, massaging his scalp a little.

"Thank you," Cal murmured.

"It's ok honey."

"You take such good care of me."

"I try," Gillian whispered.

Cal waited for the pounding to stop, or at least ease, and clung on to his wife, relieved she was there. Her timing was impeccable. "I might need a speech to prop me up in a minute."

"Prop you up?"

"Remind me I'm not a complete basket case."

"You're not a complete basket case," Gillian immediately parroted. "It's just a headache Cal; it doesn't mean you're royally screwed."

Cal wanted to laugh, he really did, but when it came to his brain, time still revealed niggling doubts and concerns. "Tell me again."

"It's just a headache Cal. You're fine." She soothed her fingers at the perfect pressure, enough to help ease the tension. "There's nothing to worry about," she told him firmly.


	34. Chapter 34

"Be really careful," Cal warned his six and a half year old. He had a glass of water in one hand, and a travel mug of coffee in the other. Cal had twenty month old Owen in the crook of his arm, resting on his hip, while he carried a plate of dried toast up the stairs in the other. Lewis was taking the steps one at a time, so he didn't spill the water. The only reason Cal let him carry the coffee, which he had put in a travel mug to protect all involved, was because Owen was still half asleep and refusing to walk. "And don't forget to be quiet," he added as they reached the top of the stairs. Cal nudged open the master bedroom door that he'd left ajar when he got up, and they all crept in.

"Shhh," Owen pressed his index finger to his lips.

"Yeah," Cal whispered. He followed Lewis around the bed to Gillian's side. She was still asleep, half buried under a pillow. She was naked under there, Cal knew, because she had practically ripped his underwear off him last night to shag him senseless. Cal put the toast down on the bedside table and Lewis put the water on a coaster that was already there and then he turned to his father with the coffee in one hand and a questioning 'wh?' hand. "There," Cal pointed beside the water. Lewis turned around again.

"Ready?" Cal asked him when he had deposited the other beverage safely. Lewis nodded assent. "Ready?" Cal asked Owen.

"Yes! Go!" Owen squirmed, apparently more awake now. Cal put him down on the mattress and he started to crawl up Gillian's calves while Lewis grabbed two handfuls of the bed cover to shake her and Cal leaned his weight on to the bed and shook the mattress. Gillian groaned and that only encouraged the boys who started calling out for her to 'wake-up!' She groaned louder in clear complaint, shifting beneath the weight of Owen, who was over her torso now.

"She's awake!" Lewis announced, attempting to use the blanket as a vine and climb it. Cal picked him up and dropped him over the other side. He turned her lamp on and then threw himself down on the mattress as well, squirming around his wife and sons to get to the middle of the mattress.

"What the hell?" Gillian grumbled. She emerged, sitting up, frowning, holding the blanket against her chest, even as Owen tried to pry it away again. "Owen, let go," she requested.

"Morning Mum!" Lewis shifted in closer to lean his head on her shoulder.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Gillian turned to her husband, who had propped his head up on his hand.

He grinned. "We brought you breakfast."

"And water Mum," Lewis added. He made a 'W' hand and pressed the fingers against his mouth, side on.

"Dink," Owen agreed. "A dink." He made an 'O' hand when it should have been a 'C' and brought it to his mouth, tipping it back like his hand was a cup to drink out of.

Gillian looked over to her bedside table. "And coffee," Cal added.

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "Dry toast?"

"Wasn't sure how you were feelin' afta last night."

"I'm fine," she told him dryly with a slight eye roll. "Owen, leave it," Gillian snatched the blankets back out of his grip. Owen gave her a screech and Cal reached forward to snag an ankle and drag the toddler away. Gillian kept her death grip on the cover.

"Mum you should have your toast," Lewis suggested. He stabbed a 'V' into the palm of his left hand, then the back of it. "I made it."

"Aw thank you Lewis," Gillian reached for it.

"Mum where are your pyjamas?" Lewis asked. He used 'night' and 'clothes'.

"Yeah Mum," Cal spoke up. He had pried some of her clothing from beneath her pillow after he woke up and before he went to get the boys.

Gillian shot him a deathly glare.

"I want!" Owen crowed, shoving his way out of his father's grip. He shuffled his way across his mother's legs again and she winced as his weight made sharp pressures points against her bones.

"It's not for you," Cal caught him again and pulled him closer. Owen started kicking so Cal started tickling and over the noise of his loud squeals and breathless laughter Gillian couldn't be heard. Cal wondered if she actually answered Lewis's question.

"No!" Owen gasped and Cal let up.

"Had enough?"

Owen nodded, gasping, waving an arm weakly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Owen nodded and struggled to pull himself up. Cal grabbed him by the hand to sit.

"And then I came home," Gillian finished. She had also finished her toast and leaned over to put her plate back.

"All right," Cal announced. "Showa time."

"You, you," Owen told him, patting his arm. "With you."

"All right, you can have a showa with me," Cal told him. "And Lewis?" Cal asked. The sign for 'shower' was like imitating the water coming out of the nozzle.

"Yes please," Lewis agreed, eyes wide with enthusiasm.

"All right. You boys go down the hall to your bathroom and get your towels." Cal did a one handed 'towel' sign, mimicking pulling a towel back and forth along his neck like he was drying it. Lewis nodded and butt-shuffled over the mattress to the edge of the bed. "Take Owen with you," Cal gave the toddler a nudge to go with his brother. Owen half crawled, half walked, half stumbled to the edge, then sat and slid to the ground. Lewis waited for him and together they walked to the door. "That should give us ten minutes," Cal quickly turned and scooted himself towards his wife. He smothered his body over hers and she half heartedly fended him off. "Are you hangin' ova my darlin'?" He pressed a kiss against her neck.

"No," she mumbled.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Cos last night was..." He pulled back to see her eyes.

Gillian looked a little abashed. "Did I hurt you?"

"Shoulder's feelin' a little tenda."

"Show me."

Cal pushed himself back, straightened up and pulled his shirt off, turning to show his wife his right scapula. "Hang on," Gillian told him, turning into the light of her bedside lamp. She winced.

"It's bad?"

"It's pretty messy." Gillian pulled back the sheets on his side of the bed and there were traces of blood there too. She placed a hand on top of his shoulder, stroking his skin. She had scratched a hash tag deep into his flesh. "Sorry."

Cal turned his head back and gave her a grin. "Was totally worth it."

Gillian gave him a shy smile. "Yeah."

Cal leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. He could taste the stale alcohol on her breath. She had gone out last night with some friends. Now that Owen was weaned Gillian considered it a small step towards freedom. Or at least she had her body to herself again. Sort of.

"You're fun when you're half cut. You should go out more often," Cal suggested.

Gillian pulled him against her, collapsing his arms and hugging him tightly around the neck. "Not when I get woken up with the reception I received today."

Cal chuckled. "You're welcome."

"Dad," Lewis called him away. "You're not even ready!"

Cal turned to see Lewis, with his towel bundled up in a ball in front of him, and Owen, who was dragging his towel on the ground, waiting expectantly. "I _am_ ready," he countered. "You've still got your pyjamas on. Go turn the warta on and get undressed." He made a flicking motion of his fingers and then 'dressed'. The boys rushed for the bathroom and Cal turned back to his wife. "Wanna join us?"

"All four of us in there? There'd be no room and no water."

Cal pouted. "All right then. Drink your warta and your coffee."

Gillian gave him another unimpressed expression. "I'm not hung over."

"All right," Cal agreed softly. He shifted off the bed and Gillian lay still, watching him go. The mark on his shoulder was pretty impressive. She might have been pissed last night but she did remember coming home and him opening the door like he had been waiting for her and he just looked so cute, like he had just woken up or something, his hair sticking up and his eyes husky. She wanted him. So badly she was pretty sure she fell all over him as soon as she stepped up on the stoop. She remembered taking off his clothes and most of hers and how he had to practically carry her upstairs because she could not stop giggling and kissing him. And oh god the sex. The sex was always so good when they had been drinking, either one of them, or both. It didn't seem to matter.

Gillian heard the rumble of Cal's voice through the wall as he directed the boys into the shower. He had pushed the bathroom door slightly closed. When she heard the shower door bang shut she reached over for the water and drank it. Cal had also put a bottle of aspirin by her bed too and she popped out a few and swallowed them down. Then she reached for her coffee and took the lid off to let the comforting aroma out. Ugh, she _so_ had a hangover.


	35. Chapter 35

They had to wait out in the corridor in chairs that were just a wee bit too small and then the parents the appointment before them exited the classroom and Cal and Gillian were allowed in. Lewis already knew he was supposed to play quietly on the other side of the room while his parents talked to his teacher. Owen was currently asleep in his car seat. Cal picked him up and carried him through. Lewis's teacher was in her mid twenties with long black hair and deep brown eyes. They'd met before, of course, in the pre-placement interviews and on the first day but Cal still shook her hand in greeting and she said that he should call her Sarah. Gillian had met her several more times than that, often when she came to pick Lewis up at the end of the day.

They took seats at one of the tables near the front of the room, where the chairs were once again, just that wee bit too small, so Cal felt his knees were up around his shoulders. Sarah glanced over at Lewis who was selecting a puzzle from the stack on a shelf. "Lewis is a great kid," she started and Cal felt a well of pride. Fantastic opening line. Not that he was expecting something way worse; by all accounts Lewis did well in school. "He's very sweet and considerate of his classmates. He's respectful and dutifully follows the rules. He's a real pleasure to have in my classroom."

'_Keep talkin'_,' Cal glanced over at Gillian who was smiling.

"Lewis is pretty advanced in all subjects. He's produced some great art," she pulled a sheet from his file to show Lewis's rendition of a family portrait. Interestingly, the people, house and tree were in relative proportion. "Maths is fine," she went through the list of subject breakdowns, noting he was at the expected level or slightly above it, until she got to reading. "He recognises words easily and knows all his letters and when I ask him to tell me what the story was about he gets most of the basic concepts. But his pronunciation, it's a little difficult for words he hasn't come across before."

Cal had been feeling a floating bubble of delight slowly bumping its way around his abdomen and all of a sudden it seemed to deflate. Owen made a smacking sound in his sleep and for a second all the adults were distracted. "Is it holding him back?" Gillian asked, focussed again, absently rocking the car seat so Owen settled again.

"Not so much holding him back. With one-on-one he picks up new words just fine. He's very focussed when it comes to this kid of work. He's great with blends and the sound of constants and vowels. I just notice he's a little afraid of attempting to sound out a word on his own and looks to someone else to tell him first. I'd like Lewis's confidence in trying new words to rise."

Gillian nodded and offered to work on it at home with him and Cal just couldn't help but feel disappointed. Not that he was disappointed with Lewis, not at all, as far as he was concerned his son was brilliant. It was the boy's hearing, Cal just knew it. He just hoped it wouldn't always be like this. Lewis already tried very hard to compensate. And so had Cal and Gillian, teaching him ways to cope early in his life. Teaching him to sign had made him more aware of words and letters. Sarah enthused home help as being potentially beneficial.

"How's it been with his hearin'?" Cal spied a gap and went for it.

Sarah turned her attention to him. "He's been teaching the other children a few of the basic signs," she responded with a smile. "And Ms Dawson, our aide, has been working with him one-on-one as well, sharing more school orientated signs."

Cal thought, as parents, that they should have done that to prepare him better. There had been too much Owen-focus leading up to Lewis starting school.

"The children make sure to look out for him."

Cal hated to hear that too.

"But I can see Lewis makes a concentrated effort to listen when it's required. He's often one of the first children to respond when I ask for quiet or if I give instructions. He's very disciplined and gets on with his work. When he knows what is expected of him he strives to achieve it."

Ok, that sounded better.

"Lewis is going to do really well at school," Sarah went on. "I can tell he gets a lot of support at home, which is really great. He's confident enough to raise his hand during discussion time. He doesn't pass up his turn during show and tell. Besides the reading I've already discussed, I really don't think Lewis's hearing holds him back much at all."

Calk breathed a suppressed sigh of relief. Perfect.


	36. Chapter 36

_AN: M rated chapter_

**PJ**

Cal watched his wife slip reading glasses on to her nose and gather up the needle and white cotton to thread through the eye. He remembered seeing her in them after his memory had been wiped clean; the surprise of realising that they had aged, and to him, it had felt over night. Next year, Gillian would turn fifty and Owen would still only be a toddler and it was all a bit screwy when Cal thought about it that way. Lewis had just started school. Emily was still trying to figure out her baby plan.

"Need some assistance?" Cal offered.

"If I need swabbing or a scalpel I'll let you know, nurse," Gillian responded absently, bringing Owen's bear into her lap so she could sew his leg back on.

"I was thinkin' more like a neural specialist. I know a good docta."

"Hm a specialist, how soon can you get them here?"

"Please hold, I'll see if he's available." Cal shifted to lean over towards her. He planted a kiss on the edge of her jaw. He was aiming for cheek but misjudged the distance and angle.

Gillian gave a smile, her focus still on the soft toy in her hand. Earlier in the evening they'd made Ted a special bed in a shoebox and made almost like a little shrine on the breakfast bar. Cal promised Owen when he woke up in the morning Ted would have had his surgery and would be all better. Owen made the bear a 'get better soon' card, bless him, and gone off to bed reluctantly. Cal reminded him it was a bit like Christmas though, he had to go to sleep for the morning to come and then Ted would be better. He snuggled up to Giggle Bear and asked for extra hugs in bed though. To Cal, it seemed he was on the edge of crying but was trying so very hard to hold it together.

"I can't work if you're crowding my light," Gillian reprimanded softly.

Cal shifted back but rested his head on her shoulder so he could watch. "Do you think Owen was suppressin' his emotions?"

"What?" Gillian lowered her hands and turned her head. Cal felt the press of her cheek against the top of his head.

"He walked around all day with a long face but didn't cry."

"Did you want him to cry?" Gillian challenged.

"Well not necessarily but I just wondered if he wanted to but didn't because he thought he wasn't allowed?"

"You'd have to ask him. We've never given the impression it wasn't ok to cry."

Cal felt himself relax at that. "That's true." He worried too much sometimes. He knew that. He just didn't want to repeat the same mistakes.

Gillian brought the bear up again and tucked the needle under the edge of fabric by the hip joint. She pulled it all the way through until the knot bit and held.

"What about Lewis?"

"What about him?" Gillian repeated, resting the bear in her lap and moving the leg into the correct position before she continued sewing.

"What his teacha said at his intaview yestaday."

Gillian waited for him to go on as she worked the needle and thread and when he didn't she prompted him.

"About his readin'."

"Would you do me a favour?" Gillian interrupted. "And put the overhead light back on? It's too dim."

"Sure," Cal got up and hit the switch on the wall. He nixed the sound on the TV as well and took his seat again, head back to resting on her shoulder so he could continue watching what she was doing.

"We can work with Lewis more and focus on it," Gillian answered him absently.  
>"It doesn't botha you?<p>

"Of course it bothers me, it's not like I don't care."

"That wasn't what I was implyin'," Cal cut in.

"I just think, he's five and this is his first year at school and he's already ahead so... it's not going to do damage. It is possible to overwhelm kids." Gillian put her hands with the needle and the bear into her lap and turned her head slightly towards him again, so he could feel the press of her jaw against the top of his skull. "I don't want to be one of those parents that maps out their children's entire life for them and pressures them into being more and more and more until the poor kid feels they have no choice but to rebel. If Lewis tells me he wants to be a circus performer instead of a neuro-surgeon then I want that to be because he wants to be a circus performer, not because we've driven him to find the most ridiculous job he possibly can just to spite us."

"Oh thank god, for a second I thought you were gonna actually be all right with him bein' a carnie."

"Well, if that's what he really wanted, then I would be. Would I rather him be the neuro-surgeon? Yes. I'd love that for him. But," Gillian gave a shrug and Cal's head almost lost its balance. "He's my son and I will love him no matter what happens. I will go to the circus to see him perform if I have to."

Cal chuckled a little. "Not that there's anythin' wrong with bein' a circus performa."

"Absolutely not."

"Owen would love the circus," Cal mused.

"He would," Gillian agreed, picking up her patient again. "Can you hold this for me?" She meant the leg and Cal brought up his hand to hold it in place for her. "We should take the boys next time the circus is in town."

"Might give Lewis ideas," Cal responded facetiously.

"Cal. We _are_ going to be ok about it if Lewis decides he wants to be a circus performer."

"I know," he sighed.

"Or Owen for that matter."

"Hmph," Cal agreed.

"Are you ok?" Gillian asked him gently.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I saw your face when we talked to Lewis's teacher."

"And you're grillin' me on it now? Twenty-four hours late-a? You're slippin' Docta Lightman."

"This is the first moment sans children we've had in twenty-four hours that didn't involve individually going to the toilet or sleeping," Gillian shot back.

Cal smiled to himself. "Well you know, if we're havin' alone time togetha, shouldn't we be havin' sex?"

"Yes please. But I have to finish this first. Someone made a promise on my behalf."

"Remind me to neva do that again."

Gillian took his hand and moved it gently to where she wanted it to hold the leg. "Lewis is fine. Hearing words correctly is really not something we haven't come across before."

"Are you thinkin' we should take him back to Stephanie?"

"I wasn't. Do you think we should?"

Cal suspected the right answer was 'no' and honestly, if he thought about it, that was his answer. "I'm just a little worried I guess. Not freakin' out about it."

Gillian laughed lightly. "Good boy," she patronised.

"Hey, I'm allowed to be nutty about our kids."

"Absolutely," Gillian agreed. "If you weren't, I'd be concerned."

"Why aren't you nutty about it?"

"Hey!" Gillian complained against the implication that she didn't care.

"I was teasin'!" Cal cut her off again. To be fair, when she was being insecure and stressing out and over protective, Cal was calm and collected. And when he was worrying, Gillian was his voice of reason. Perfect harmony. "Ow!" He suddenly recoiled, starting to withdraw his hand.

"That was an accident!" Gillian quickly pointed out. She put the bear down and grabbed his hand before he could remove it completely.

"Son of a bitch," Cal growled. He tried to sit up and pull his hand away to see the damage the needle had done.

Gillian tugged it back. "I'm sorry," she half-laughed. She drew his finger up to her face, bending his arm back, which essentially kept him immobilised. "I'll kiss it better."

Cal started to grumble something else but she took his entire index finger in her mouth, hot and wet, and swirled her tongue around the diameter. He jerked and his free hand shot to his groin. "God Gillian!" He exclaimed in surprise.

"Better?"

Cal twisted to look up at her. Her hair had fallen loosely around her face and with the glasses and that look in her eye... oh god... She leaned forward, holding his gaze heavily, and opened her mouth. Instead of drawing his finger into her mouth, this time she pushed out her tongue to lick. Cal felt his heart rate increase in a sudden rush and his breath become more pronounced and blood pounded. He groaned, "Don't tease."

Gillian planted a kiss at the tip and Cal felt his hips jerk involuntarily. "I'm not teasing. I'm promising." Cal let out another low groan. He wriggled up further so he could reach to kiss her mouth but she pressed a hand against his shoulder to stop him. He pouted. He actually pouted. "I have to finish this," Gillian murmured.

"Are you kiddin' me?"

"I only have this little bit here," Gillian countered.

"I'm about ready to come in my pants."

"You better not be," Gillian shot him a hard expression.

"Your fault."

"Have some self-control."

"Ugh!" Cal glared at her. He dropped his head to her lap, the reel of cotton digging in to his cheek. He nudged it out of his way and felt Gillian squirm beneath him. He locked his mouth around her right thigh and blew hard to pour heat against her trouser leg.

Gillian lifted her limb slightly, pushing against him and put it back. "Stop it," she told him softly, smoothing a hand through his hair briefly. Cal turned his head and came face to face with her pubic bone. He shifted closer to it, closing his eyes, pressing his nose against her. "Cal!" Gillian reprimanded.

"You started it," he retorted, ignoring her, feeling for the zipper of her trousers with his teeth. He felt her squirm beneath him again, heard her breath shift from easy to pronounced. She rested her elbows on his shoulder and temple and he could feel the muscles of her forearms shifting as she worked; faster, he noted. When he turned is head to pull the zipper all the way to the bottom of its tract she dug her elbows harder against him, trying to keep him still.

How much longer?

Cal waited a moment then brought a hand up to undo the button. Gillian's hand slapped down against his ear and he complained. "Just wait."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" Cal complained turning over so he could look up at her. She was concentrating on her work; concentrating quite intensely. "You can't do dirty things and then expect me to be able to just sit around patiently."

"Shh."

Cal almost laughed. He brought his hand to her waist, stroking around the curve of it. He was nose to belly button with her now and he nuzzled against her stomach gently. He felt her breath catch a little and then even out again. Her arm rested in the curve of his neck this time. And then she was telling him to move and he lifted himself a way a little so she could stand. He turned on to his back, disappointed to have his gentle exploration of her body over clothes interrupted. But then he was also hopeful she was going to take him by the hand and lead him up to bed now.

Cal was just starting to wonder where she went when she returned, sliding over the back of the couch to straddle him. She pressed her mouth desperately against his and pushed her tongue unceremoniously against his teeth while her hands found their way under his shirt, shoving it up as she raked her fingernails over his ribs. Cal was stunned for about two seconds by the assault and then moved his hands to her backside, squeezing firmly, pushing her mouth harder against his.

Gillian's teeth caught against his lip and it hurt her as well as him but not in a bad way. In fact, it had been a while since they'd had this level of desperation. Gillian ducked her head to bite his nipple and he cried out softly, bucking his hips against her and she could feel the heavy press of him, then the fumble of his hands between and the sound of him undoing his own trousers over their rapid breathing. She felt heat feral flood through her, which made her push down against him. Then his hands on her trousers too. But there wasn't enough room. Or it was the completely wrong angle. Gillian pushed against him to stand again. His hand shot to her hair pulling hard enough to jerk her head to the side; a silent '_don't go'_.

"One second," she told him gently, prying his fingers loose. She knew that look in his eye. He had told her once what was going through his mind when he looked at her like that: _I feel like if I can't fuck you right now I'm going to die_.

Gillian finished undoing her trousers and pushed them down to the floor, along with her underwear and she looked down to his flushed face and neck, half exposed chest, and the exposed rest of him and felt her own pulse in her groin. He was huge and hard and he was waiting and she felt a bit like if she didn't fuck him right now _she_ might die. She climbed over him again and he immediately pulled her head down by the back of her neck to crash her mouth into his. She could feel him against her too, blazing hot and rock hard and her stomach wound itself up so tightly she thought she might implode in on herself.

"Oh god," her voice was strained.

"Gill," Cal groaned back. She could feel his hand against her thigh, directing himself and she could barely keep still for him to find the right place; like Owen who could barely keep still long enough for her to stick down the tabs of his diaper; excited energy that couldn't keep still, rocking back and forth on her knees.

Cal liked the couch. There were all kinds of places to grip on to for leverage but Gillian found it a too enclosed space; if anyone had any idea how many times they'd had sex on this furniture no one would ever sit on it. "There!" Gillian cried, feeling him nudging to get inside her and Cal's hands came to her hips pulling her down. She made sure she overrode his desire and went carefully.

"Gofck," Cal gulped as she closed down around him, breathing hard.

'_Fuck, fuck, fuck_,' said Gillian's heart. She recognised the tension in his fingers, his arms, his hips. "Wait," she begged him, bringing her mouth against his again, keeping still so she wouldn't set him off. "Wait," she requested again, pressing a gentle kiss against his neck. Her thighs were tense with holding her weight and when she felt his grip ease off her flesh she dared to move a little. He held his breath but he held it together. He wasn't kidding then about being ready to come in his pants.

"Mm yes," Gillian whispered against his ear. She eased forward and felt the strangled huff of her husband's breath. He turned his head to nip along her jaw, then clamped down on her earlobe. Gillian shivered and Cal whispered a growl. She turned her head to kiss him warmly, delving deeply with her tongue. She slowly sat back and he followed her as far as he could before breaking away, panting. He watched her take his hands and slide them beneath her shirt. He took over, slipping his hands up her ribs to her breasts. Gillian closed her eyes and rocked her hips against him. She felt him twitch, felt the firmness of his fingers. He pushed her bra up, out of the way and viced her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Gillian let out a moan. Her eyes flew open again and she fell against him, finding his ear. "We don't have to be so quiet," she whispered. "The boys are upstairs asleep, not down the hall."

Cal gave a growl and thrust his hips up sharply causing a cry to escape her throat. "You're right," he agreed. "Don't have to be quiet at all. I can tell you how utterly sexy you are."

Gillian gave a hum of approval and bit his ear in return. He gave a louder grunt, pushing his hips again, squeezing her breasts. "And how fuckin' desperately I want you," Cal added on a grunt. "Don't leave me hangin'."

Gillian would have smirked if she could focus on more than his assault on her body. He worked her breasts, ground his pelvis up against her, bracing his thighs behind her, and sucked on her neck. Gillian pushed against his shoulders to sit back again and he gave her a facetious grin. She leaned down to kiss him once more, shifting her hips forward and back in an agonising rhythm. Cal's hands slid to her hips again pulling her forward forcefully, overriding her movement. "Don't tease," his voice was strained.

"That's half the fun," Gillian reminded him.

Cal gave a groan. "Please."

"Are you begging me?"

"I just..." he huffed. "I'm sorry but I can't hold on anymore." He pulled her head down to meet his lips briefly; they were too out of breath for more than that. Gillian rested her forehead against his, felt how hot his skin was, how sticky with sweat. She angled her pelvis down, to rub against his and felt the electric friction down to her toes. She gripped his shoulders for leverage and thrust harder. "Oh god Gillian!" Cal groaned. He squirmed, held her tighter and she could feel his laboured chest beneath hers. She slipped an arm under his neck, hugging him up against her, felt the buck of his hips against hers as they strove towards the end.

"Oh," Gillian murmured as she felt herself winding out of control. "Cal," she breathed. He hit her in a way that made her squeak and he laughed lightly. Gillian giggled in return, letting go and feeling her body float free on the wave of tension just before it crashed down making her to shake.

"Oh fuck!" Cal exclaimed as he followed her, lifting up from the couch, pushing with his feet against the arm at the other end. Gillian buried her face into the edge of his damp hair, clinging on to ride out the both of them. It wasn't the same as when he was on top driving her to the edge, it wasn't her favourite position, but it had been so long since they'd had this kind of fun... yes, sex did tend to be less frequent than before, but even when they were going for it they were usually sneaking around, trying to be quiet, and not really getting the full benefit of this kind of passion. Plus, they were getting old. Not that Gillian really wanted to think about that right now. Not when they had a three year old.

Gillian felt Cal's hand heavy on the back of her head as he held her. "All right?" He breathed.

"Mh hmm," Gillian agreed. "Very."

Cal gave a little pleased huff. "Twice in one day!"

Gillian turned her lips to kiss his hairline. "Yes," she agreed at a whisper. "I'm very proud of you." She felt Cal shift a little as he chuckled. "Am I crushing you?" She realised she had her full weight lying over him.

"Nope," Cal wrapped an arm over her back, pulling her in tighter. He planted a kiss against the side of her head. "You're fantastic." Gillian smiled into his neck as she turned her head against his shoulder. "You know?"

"Uh huh."

There was a moment's silence.

"Can we go to bed now? I'm sleepy."

Gillian laughed lightly again. "Sure honey we can go to bed. Why don't you go up and I'll be there in a minute ok?" She pulled back and he gave her a nod. She slid off him carefully, a little awkwardly, and stood, pulling her trousers back on. Cal wrapped her up in a bear hug from behind. He gave her a quick kiss then headed out of the room. Gillian adjusted her bra and went to the breakfast bar to check the stitching one more time, to make sure it was going to hold. She tucked Ted back into his hospital bed. The needle and thread she had put away in the sewing kit earlier, so she wished Owen's soft toy a good night, before heading up to bed herself.


	37. Chapter 37

"So," Cal announced his arrival in his wife's office. Her door was open so he couldn't use that to make her aware. Gillian looked up and gave him a smile in greeting and watched him swagger into a seat opposite her desk. She waited for him to speak while he slouched down to make himself comfortable. "How are you doin'?"

"I'm fine," she answered nonchalantly.

"Good first day back?" He asked innocently.

"It was fine," she responded smoothly.

Cal watched her for a moment; his left eye narrowed slightly. "How badly do you wanna rush outta here to get Owen?"

"Pretty badly," Gillian admitted. But she had also promised herself she would not leave early because then she would only have to wait at the other end; hovering at the day care like a little lost orphan.

Cal gave a slight smile; an amused but sympathetic smile. "I'm impressed you didn't call the day care to see how he was doin'."

Gillian looked abashed.

"You didn't did you?" He raised his eyebrows in question. Granted, he didn't keep tabs on her every minute of the day... but he had been pretty sure she hadn't caved. She had kept herself busy enough.

Gillian shook her head. "No," she told him forcefully. "But I did pick up the phone to dial." She paused. "Once."

"Aw," Cal softened his expression into a half grin. "I'm proud of you."

"Don't mock."

"I'm not. I _am_ proud of you. Owen's your wee man."

Lewis was Cal's and Owen was Gillian's. Owen was more inclined to cling to his mother than his father, whereas Lewis and Cal had had a special bond since he was very little.

"When are you leavin' to get him?" Cal checked his watch.

"In five minutes," Gillian responded.

"Then I arrived just in the nick of time."

"What for?" Gillian gave a little frown of confusion.

"For tellin' you, it was really nice havin' you back," he spoke sincerely and Gillian could tell because his voice got a little softer at the end of the sentence.

Gillian gave him a smile. "It was nice to be back."

She had been back during the last few years as well, sort of. When Owen was sleeping for large chunks of time, and the paranoia over germs had abated, she'd bring him in to work, stashing him away in her office like she had done with Lewis. When he got older and more alert and more active, it was too hard. He was less inclined to be content with sitting in a playpen by himself or being passed around between babysitters, which was too much of an inconvenience when everyone was busy anyway. So Gillian had retreated to home again, spending her days playing with Owen, encouraging him to keep up his milestones, to make up for those two months. She had started to teach him, well, they all did, some basic sign language so he would understand what everyone else was gesturing about.

Gillian loved the one-on-one with him so it wasn't like it was a great sacrifice giving up work; which she didn't entirely give up because she still came in twice a week to do payroll and other essential duties that were, and always had been, hers. But she had reached that point in time where being at home all day was feeling claustrophobic, and Owen had reached that point where he needed more stimulation than she could provide on her own; he needed people his own age to play with and against; new rules to learn and obey. He was toilet trained and growing up and it was simply time. It didn't mean Gillian didn't miss being with him. It didn't mean she didn't miss him following her around the house getting into everything she was; scuffing about in his Daddy's shoes when she was cleaning out their closet, or driving boats up her shins while she showered.

"Where did you go?" Cal nudged her verbally, his voice gentle.

"Thinking about Owen."

Cal's lip twitched slightly in his sign of amusement. "How much trouble do you think he got himself into today?"

Gillian smiled. That wasn't what she was thinking about. "I don't know," she laughed a little. Knowing Owen, he very well may have trashed the building. She wasn't going to miss _that_ aspect of him. "_I_ didn't get any calls from the day care so he can't have completely destroyed the place."

"Or, he did," Cal countered. "And now their phone doesn't work so they couldn't call you."

Gillian laughed a little more. "Your son is trouble."

"My son?" Cal feigned shock. "_Your_ son. My son is the good one."

"Oh so you're finally acknowledging Lewis as yours?"

"Not him," Cal shot back quickly. "My _otha_ son. Didn't know how to tell you... but now that you've brought it up."

Gillian laughed again. She pushed back from her desk, glad Cal had come in to check up on her, despite it being slightly patronising. She hadn't actually seen him for most of the day so while it was familiar walking the halls and staring at her office walls, it was also kind of lonely. She kept looking up expecting to be needed for something, or having to run intervention between a window and a cup, but really, she'd spent her day doing paperwork and catching up with people (for which Cal was grateful, because he hated to do it).

"That time then?" Cal also got to his feet.

Gillian gathered her purse together, checking her keys were there, and sliding her phone into the little side pocket. "Uh huh."

"See you at home late-a then?"

"Sure," she gave him a smile. She walked around the desk and gave him a quick kiss. From today, a whole new routine would play out.


	38. Chapter 38

Cal kicked his shoes off by the bottom of the stairs. He stripped off his suit jacket and hung it on the end of the banister and untucked his business shirt, loosening the buttons around his wrists. From there he could hear the displeased squeals and calls of Owen, who was either trying to do something he shouldn't or was in the process of getting told off about it and restrained from doing more damage. He had a way of shuffling around the room and finding little places he could put his little fingers in to get into a little bit of trouble. Cal could hear Gillian underneath that and figured the kid had got himself into trouble. At eighteen months old now, it was easy to tell Owen was going to be more of a handful than Lewis had been.

Cal headed into the actual kitchen and found Owen practically face down on the table top and Gillian pulling him back to his seat by his hips. He had one hand gripping the opposite edge of the furniture to try and keep his position but his much stronger mother was winning. She pried him loose and he gave a cry. "I said 'no' Owen," she told him sharply and set him on the floor. He refused to stand and collapsed slowly into a heap at his mother's feet. He gave a displeased screech. In the chair beside them, Lewis continued with his colouring.

Cal approached and Gillian turned her head to see where Owen was going and caught sight of her husband instead. "Hi," she greeted.

"Hi," Cal echoed, planting a kiss on her cheek. It barely brushed her skin before she was pushing past him to get to Owen, who was attempting to climb up the extra-tall stools at the breakfast bar. Cal took his usual seat at the head of the table.

Lewis looked up. "Hi Dad," he gave a smile.

"Hi darlin'," Cal greeted.

"Dad, guess what!" Lewis practically interrupted as if he had suddenly remembered something incredibly exciting. He was kneeling on his chair and came up on his knees so he was suddenly much taller. His blue eyes went wide with excitement and his 'wh?' question was hurried. Without waiting for an answer he pulled down his bottom lip. "Aye toosh feel ou," he wiggled his tongue into the gap in his gum.

"Wow," Cal responded appropriately, finger-spelling it loosely and quickly, his eyebrows raised and eyes wide. "When did it come out?" He also raised his hands in a 'wh?' gesture, then 'out'.

"Today," Lewis responded. "At lunch time. I took a biiiiiig bite of my apple and it was wobbly." He used 'today', 'eat', 'noon', 'bite', 'large' and 'apple'. Cal nodded. "And then, oh, and it was in my fingers." He held out his palm as if it were still nestled carefully in there.

"And where is it now?"

"Over there," Lewis pointed to the breakfast bar. "Mum said the tooth fairy will come." He brought a hand to his mouth to indicate who he was talking about.

Cal nodded again. "She should do. What do you think you'll get for your tooth?" 'Tooth' was tapping an 'X' finger against his teeth.

"Um?" Lewis looked a little pensive. "Max told me you get five whole dollars!" He finger-spelled his cousin's name and raised his hand in a 'five' shape.

"I dunno," Cal exaggerated dubiousness. "Is your tooth nice?" He ran his right hand down the length of his upturned left. Lewis looked a little worried. Then he nodded. Behind him, Gillian pulled Owen off the bar stool, crouching to remind him that he was not allowed to climb them because he could fall. He hit her and she immediately took him to the wall to sit a one minute time out. They had zero tolerance for violence and Owen was chronic for it. He hit when he was annoyed, frustrated, upset, over excited...

"Well so long as it's a nice tooth the tooth fairy will be happy," Cal told Lewis, moving flat hands towards and away from his chest in big circles, trying so hard to ignore the crying out of his youngest child. Poor Lewis was living in Owen's shadow. Cal getting up to abandon him right now would only hurt him. Besides, Gillian had the situation under control. And if Cal got up to intervene that would only piss her off as well. It was hard to sit there though, like nothing was happening. Cal was a man of action after all. "Did it hurt?" He smacked his fist into his left index finger gently.

Lewis shook his head. "Not very much," he made a 'little' sign.

"Very brave," Cal gave him a grin, moving his hands to his shoulder and then away slightly and closing them into fists. Then he reached out to squeeze his son's shoulder, which wasn't a sign at all, he just wanted to connect with him. He was growing up so fast! "What are you workin' on here?" Cal asked, keeping the conversation going. He could give his six year old ten minutes of quality time before he was distracted by dinner and Owen and his wife.

"I'm making a Halloween monster for my wall." He signed 'Halloween' by closhing his hands over his face and opening them again, like the common 'peek-a-boo' concept. Normally the movement was repeated but he did it once then curled his hands into claws up by his face with a scary expression. He turned the page to show his father the green figure with excessive sharp teeth and claws.

"Whoa," Cal was appropriately impressed. "Very scary." He used 'afraid'.

Lewis nodded. "It eats people up." He signed 'eat' and 'people', using rotating 'P' hands.

Time out was apparently up because Owen shuffled his way over to his father and used his leg to pull himself up. Cal lifted him to his lap. "Did you give your Mum a hug to say sorry?"

"All hugs," Owen answered, which was meant to mean, lots of hugs. He lunged forward suddenly for Lewis's picture, scrunching it under his fingers.  
>"No!" Cal pulled him back quickly, squeezing his wrist to get him to let go. "That's Lewis's."<p>

Owen gave a disgruntled squeal and shoved his feet against the table, bumping it but not moving it away. He lay himself flat, pushing his head against Cal's sternum. Cal let him go, and he slid to the floor. '_Not gettin' his way to day_,' Cal mused.

Lewis smoothed out the wrinkles in the paper and Owen went to walk under the table, holding on to the leg for stability, but he was too tall and he struck his head, knocking himself down on his backside. "Geeze," Cal reached for him again. "Are you all right?" He pulled the boy back to his feet to check his head. There looked like a small graze and it would probably bruise, but Owen was not screaming his head off so it couldn't have been that bad. Gillian approached behind Lewis's chair and leaned over him to see how the progress of his monster was going. Cal set Owen down on the ground again and the boy disappeared under the table, scooting on his backside this time.

"It's great Lewis," Gillian pressed a kiss against his hair.

Cal caught her eye over their son's head and gave her a smile. "How was your day?"

"Fine," Gillian responded nonchalantly.

Cal held out his hand to her. She had to move closer to take it and for a second he thought she might ignore him. Her hand was cool against his and Cal bent his elbow to pull her closer. When she was next to him, he tugged her to sit on his lap as well. "Are you tired, grumpy, ovawhelmed or did I do somethin' that pissed you off and I haven't worked it out to apologise yet?" He murmured against her shoulder.

"Yes, yes, yes and no," Gillian answered. She placed a hand against his shoulder to stabilise herself as Cal rocked his legs from side to side. She almost fell into the gap between them but Cal held her weight securely. Didn't stop her from gripping his arm tightly though.

"Dad, do you think orange is better?" Lewis interrupted. He put his hand to his mouth and shifted between a 'C' hand and an 'S' hand.

Cal shifted his head around his wife's torso to see him. "Go for what you think Lew." He brought a finger to his forehead.

"Do you like this one?" Lewis held up a pencil to show him. He pointed to his father and added 'like'.

"It's great," Cal nodded, giving him a 'thumbs up'. He looked up at Gillian. "Can I do somethin' to help with the grumpy? Want me to start dinna?"

Gillian gave a slight groan. "It must be really late and I haven't even _thought_ about it."

A chair at the other end of the table started to move. "Nope," Cal responded. "It's not late. I'm home early. I'll make somethin'."

Gillian leaned down so her chin was resting on his shoulder. Cal squeezed his arms against her and she slipped a hand inside his shirt, between the first and second button, scratching her nails against his chest. He was wearing an under-shirt, but it still felt nice; mostly because she no longer seemed to be dismissing him. "You came home early? When you could have stayed away for some peace and quiet?"

"Uh huh," Cal responded. "Although now that you put it that way..." Gillian half laughed. "Why don't you head up and read for a bit? I'll cook and keep tabs on Trouble."

"Are you sure? We're headed for a record amount of 'time-out's' today."

Cal raised an eyebrow. "Suddenly I'm not so sure."

"I'll cook," Gillian countered. "You take care of Trouble."

"All right," Cal agreed quickly. Cooking was honestly the easier option.

Gillian gave his shoulder a tap. "You're up. Trouble is attempting to make a break for it."

Cal looked around her again to see Owen trying to climb over the custom built baby barrier in front of the kitchen stairs.


	39. Chapter 39

'_Mother of god_,' Cal grimaced as he pulled back the tabs on Owen's nappy. Eli made jokes about the 'yellow peril' and he was not far from being right, but he was a smug bastard for not having to deal with this shit. Literally.

"Ooop!" Owen gave him a faux-surprise expression and Cal just about gagged on the taste on his tongue. Breathing through his mouth did _not_ help the situation; did _not_. Eight month old Owen gave a sudden giggle and turned his hips, attempting to roll over.

"Oh no you don't," Cal grabbed a thigh and held on tightly while he also reached for the wipes. Owen gave him a disgruntled complaint. "All that pumpkin you love so much huh?"

Owen tried reaching above his head for purchase. Cal started wiping away the muck. "You know, one day, you may very well be wipin' my ass. Wouldn't that be a turn up for the books?" He gave his son raised eyebrows, as if he were expecting an answer. Owen rolled back into place. Cal reached for another wipe and another. "I'm not gonna make it easy eitha, just so you know," Cal added.

Gillian had wild ideas about celebrating these kinds of normal bodily functions, lest their kids get a complex and start to think certain things were 'dirty' or should be shameful. Cal half agreed with that; he didn't want his boys to grow up with the shame he had experienced as a boy. But the other half of him could just not bring himself to congratulate his son on doing the biggest wettest dump Cal had seen since Lewis was the same age. It just didn't come naturally.

Gillian had read articles that suggested shame was taught, which Cal agreed with. And that the concept of shame started at a very young age, through negative connotations to do with body function and image and a whole bunch of other stuff that Cal zoned out of listening to. But he was willing to give it a shot if it was important to his wife. It wasn't like they didn't already keep tabs on Lewis in a psychological sense, to make sure he was developing in a healthy way; the kid had been through a lot.

Looking back with a whole boatload of hindsight, Cal would have to say his father was kind of absentee. He went to work and he came home and on the weekends he would go down to the pub with his friends or whatever else it was he got up to (and Cal never cared to know what that was exactly). His father put food on the table and a roof over their heads but that was mostly the extent of his good parenting. When Cal or Thomas had been naughty, he was the extra-disciplinarian; their mother usually dispensed with a good whack in the moment and William with a follow-up belt once he got home, if the crime warranted it. He never talked to them about the world or life or things that mattered. He didn't play with them; he didn't teach them to ride their bikes.

When Cal's mother had gone into care the first time, there was absolutely no explanation, no questions were answered, William barely deviated from his usual routine; neighbours and friends fed the boys and washed their clothes and herded them off to school. That was the kind of shit that made Cal angry when he was older. That was the kind of shit that had made him run away from home periodically, skip out on school, screw around, get into fights; he just wanted to feel he mattered.

Gillian's father was a drinker, that was no secret, but a lot more damage was done by her mother, the enabler. She made excuses, she taught her children to second guess, to be able to read their father to check his mood. He was not violent, so Gillian said, at least not to her and Matthew, but there were times when he was drunk enough that he shoved Dana and Gillian remembered the threat of a slap in the air. She remembered the shame of having friends over in the afternoon and her father being off his face; she stopped inviting friends home. She remembered finding out her mother's father was also a drunk and the horror of realising she was doomed to carry on the line.

For a long time she didn't date and when she did she never took it seriously; she didn't want to become her mother and her grandmother before that. She didn't want to fall into a role she despised. So she worked on herself and she got therapy, she worked on forgiving her father and forging a new relationship with both her parents. Then she became a therapist herself and then she had met Alec. She had felt strongly that she could change him and therefore break the pattern.

And Cal, well he did just about everything he could to feel something. Drinking, smoking, drugs, screwing around. He skated through school, no plans for the future. And then his mother had died and the illusion of his life crashed down around him and nothing was the same after that. The drive to find out 'why' overrode everything else; it was a new obsession. He actually managed to get into a good college. Everything else and everybody else fell away.

It wasn't so unexpected that he married someone who was pathologically distant. God knows why Zoe even said yes. God only knows why Cal asked her in the first place. He supposed at the time he thought he loved her, maybe on some level he did. But they fought all the time and when he quit his Pentagon job in a big puff of destruction he got used to sleeping on the couch for a while. Zoe would not tolerate a lay-about. So Cal picked himself up again and ran in the opposite direction. His mother taught him to suppress feelings, his father taught him to turn a blind eye to them.

So it wasn't surprising when Gillian came to Cal one night to talk about how they wanted to raise their kids. In true Cal fashion, he hadn't given it much thought. You just get on with it, is what he'd told her and she told him stories of her childhood, stories he hadn't heard before about her father being too drunk to go to parent-teacher conferences and her mother always, always choosing to back up her husband over her children. Gillian didn't want that, she warned him then, they were not going to do that. They were going to be there for their kids and they were going to be there for each other, but not at the expense of someone else. There had to be a balance, and maybe it would take a while to find it now that they had Owen as well, but she didn't want to just blindly parent her way through their lives.

Cal thought about Emily. That is exactly what he did. And worse, he left most of it up to Zoe, who he knew to be emotionally distant. It was a bloody miracle Emily turned out the way she did and a little part of him believed Gillian to be responsible. She intervened quietly and subtly in almost every way. Without realising it, Cal had let her shape him into a better father. And when he did realise it, he could also acknowledge she had shaped him into a better man. The kind of man he wished his father had been (because his mother might not have gone so soon), the kind of man he wished his sons to be too.

Cal had a pile of baby wipes almost bigger than the actual nappy by the time he had got every stray particle of crap off his son's thighs, butt, pelvis and foot, after Owen executed a direct hit. He was pretty sure the stench had soaked into his clothes so that even after the dirty nappy had been bundled up and disposed of in the bin, Cal could still smell it. He decided to change Owen completely, just in case something had strayed and found a new home somewhere Cal couldn't see but would probably discover later. That was worth the mission of fighting the kid into a clean shirt and trousers, just so he had that clean baby smell again. When he was done with the boy, Cal took his son to the master bedroom and changed his own shirt.

Owen climbed awkwardly over the unmade bed, squealing along to some game of his Cal didn't get. He reached the top of the bed and pulled back the pillows, as if he were treasure hunting. Cal waited for him to find nothing, tossing the shirt he had slept in into the hamper in the bathroom. Owen turned and sat with his legs straight out, his back leaning up against the frame of the bed, surveying around him. Cal watched him with a little pang. He wanted to be able to say that was the bed the boy had been conceived in but it was so far from the truth. It was a miracle Owen was even there with them right now. A fluke pregnancy. An early arrival. A miracle. For real.

Cal pulled his clean shirt over his head. "Come on," he held out his hand to his baby boy. Owen gave him a grin and scooted his way over, pulling himself to his feet with his father's support. "Up!" He demanded. Cal swung him to his hip easily and planted a quick kiss against the boy's forehead.

Definitely much better.


	40. Chapter 40

Gillian hated the adjusted age thing because sometimes she confused herself about how old Owen really was. He had been born in February but he was due in April and that was a two month deficit that meant she took his age by his birthday and subtracted those two months to his due date to give him an adjusted age of four months, when in fact, it was technically six months old. But it was strange because he could do things other babies his 'age' couldn't do, like take a bottle, because he had learnt when he was in the hospital. Plus, his reflux was down because he had been given medications to artificially curb it and with physical therapy it meant he was learning control so much quicker. Lewis had been slow to develop, then leapt ahead in big chunks; Owen seemed to nail some milestones and lag behind in others. Lag behind was harsh, he was actually developing at the same rate his 'peers' were; those babies that were born in April, when Owen was meant to.

For now, Gillian could leave him on the floor beneath his activity centre and not worry about him crawling away; he didn't show a lot of inclination in doing so. She checked his breathing monitor was all right, no loose leads or anything, and then headed upstairs to gather up washing. She took the baby monitor with her, just in case; the transmitter was right by his head so she could hear him. She could get to him within a minute from anywhere in the house and after four months of paranoia she was trying to let go. Yes the alarm went off, but no there had not been an incident that she could not cope with it. She was alone, with Cal at work and Lewis at school, so it was down to her if something happened. If she thought about it, she felt a pang of anxiety that made her hurry up, but she was also learning to trust in herself; she could handle it. As a mother, she had no choice.

Gillian headed back downstairs with the towels for the laundry and stopped to check in on Owen. She put the basket down by the door and approached where he had been lying on his back. Now he was on his front. He had worked the apnoea monitor in front of him and was gazing at the intermittent flashing green 'ok' lights for respiration and heartbeat. He made little 'oh' noises and Gillian watched him stare down the lights without blinking or moving, aside from the occasional little jerk of muscles he was still learning to control properly.

Amused at the kid's amazement with the simple flickering of a few lights (and he had no idea the lights came on in reaction to his own body), Gillian approached and sat down in front of him. His head jerked up further to see her and he smiled, showing off wet gums. "You like that huh?" Gillian asked him. "You like the lights?"

"Ooh," Owen seemed to sigh, kicking his feet against the cushioned blanket behind him.

"Let me find you something cool," Gillian told him, suddenly remembering, getting up again. She went to the basket of toys and searched through, looking for an item in particular. It had been Lewis's and he had outgrown it years ago, but it was much harder to get rid of things that had been his, than it had been to get rid of Lily's.

Gillian had to put fresh batteries in the toy and when she did it was apparent the sound was no longer working, but the lights were. She knelt in front of her son again and put the toy down between them. It flashed the primary and secondary colours in a rotation, then spun around showing them all in a bright rainbow. Owen stared, mouth open, drool slipping from his bottom lip, stunned. He stared for so long Gillian actually leaned in closer to see if he was all right. And then he grinned and waved a hand in the toy's direction. Gillian nudged it a little closer to him and Owen giggled, batting it with his hand, managing to hold himself up on one hand for a moment, before losing his balance and keeling forward.

Gillian leaned down to kiss his head. "You have fun for a second, Mommy's going to put the washing on." He smelt clean and fresh and warm and comforting. She hovered for a while, revelling in the sweet smell of her baby boy. Even Lewis enjoyed sniffing Owen, except when he'd filled his diaper and then it was: '_Mum! Wen smells yucky_!'

"Oh, oh," Owen responded as Gillian got to her feet again. As soon as the washing was on, she would be back to lie on the floor with him.


	41. Chapter 41

_AN: M chapter_

**PJ**

Cal let his eyes dart down to check his hand and then they darted up again so he could check Gillian's face. It was hard to tell. Really hard. It wasn't this hard before was it? He was meant to be able to read her. He narrowed his left eye slightly to see if she would react, but she kept that stony expression on her face.

"When you're ready," Gillian prompted.

"Patience," Cal shot back. He'd spent the last few rounds trying to figure out her tell. Everyone had a tell; the trick was to repress it. Cal knew what his was and every time he got dealt a good hand, like now, he consciously made sure he did a few other random little tics or movements of his eyes and fingers to throw Gillian off. Even if she noticed the movements she couldn't be sure what he was giving away. He also made sure he did the same things when he had a crap hand, including his actual tell, which was a lot more obvious if he was doing it consciously. But as for Gillian... she probably wasn't initiating some sort of procedure... but goddamn she must have been working on her poker face.

"I'll raise," Cal finally made a decision. "My shirt."

Gillian arched an eyebrow, gave him an impressed expression. "Confident are we?"

"I'm not answerin' that," Cal winced at her. It was hard to tell if she did that on purpose. She claimed to not have played Texas Hold'em very much but she was doing all right. She had won his shoes and socks in a few early rounds, which he promptly won back. Now he had her shoes and pantyhose, which he made her go to the bathroom to take off.

Gillian reached for her wine glass and took a sip. "Ok," she simply.

Cal gave a slight smirk. "So you call?"

"Yes."

"All right. What have you got?"

"What have you got?"

They weren't exactly following the rules of the poker game down to the letter but it was still a lot of fun. They were dealing out all the community cards and their hands in one go, leaving the 'turn', the last card, and then deciding what to bet or whether they would fold. It sped the game up and it also meant Gillian was now down to larger items of clothing. Once they made their bet, the last card was turned over and then they would see who had won. Cal put his cards down on the table to show her, a pair of nines.

"Hm," Gillian mused. She had a queen of spades and a jack of hearts. Cal started to feel a little nervous. The community cards didn't hold anything for either of them at the moment but that last card could change it all. A jack or a queen and Cal would be screwed. "Let's see it then," she instructed, gesturing to the deck sitting on the table to Cal's right.

He pulled the top card and flipped it, putting it down on the table at the end of the row in a singular smooth motion. It was a two of hearts. Cal looked up and grinned. "Aw damnit," Gillian cussed and shoved her cards towards him; she had a whole lot of nothing even with the community cards.

"Shirt."

Gillian pouted at him.

"Come on," Cal coaxed. "Take it off," he gave her another leering grin as he reached to gather up the cards for another round.

"Fine," Gillian started unbuttoning it. Slowly. From the bottom. Cal found himself holding his breath as he shuffled slowly. The shirt was a light blue but the bra underneath was lacy black and Cal felt his fingers fumble. He dropped a few cards and gathered them up blindly, he was staring at Gillian and Gillian was staring at him. She slipped the shirt over her wrists and tossed it in his face. It smelt like her. Cal felt his groin twitch. He put the cards down on the table and removed the shirt, after inhaling a good lungful of her sweet scent, and hooked it by the collar on the back of his chair. Gillian reached over for the cards, her cleavage dipping low. Cal stared, feeling his throat go dry. That was totally on purpose. Was she losing on purpose? She had to know playing cards with him was a dangerous move. And she was the one to suggest they play for clothes, not matchsticks... Cal felt a sweat break out across his shoulders.

Gillian shuffled the cards once and started dealing, two for each of them, four for the community; a jack of spades, a four of hearts, an eight of spades and a seven of spades. She put the deck down and picked up her cards and gave a little purse of her lips. She had something good. Cal remembered to pick up his own cards. He pressed his feet against the carpet, trying to find a little cool patch for them, trying to ground himself again. Cal gave his hand a quick cursory glance. Two jacks. Wholly shit that was a good hand. He could make a Full House with those and the community cards if he could get another four, eight or seven; without that extra card he still had three of a kind, which was a good hand.

But Gillian had pursed her lips and that meant she had a good hand too... Cal tried to guess... She could have another jack, but that still meant Cal had nothing to worry about, because she might have two, but he had three. She could have a six and a five to make a straight. Which was also good, but still not something for Cal to worry about if he got his Full House. He looked up expectantly. As the dealer, Gillian was to make the bet. She sat for a moment, her face still now and Cal watched her carefully, eyes roving over her chest, trying to guess what she was going to do before she did it.

"I'll go for trousers."

Cal's eyebrows went up, he couldn't help it. She was really very confident then. She must have a flush but that still didn't trump Cal's potential Full House... unless... unless she had a ten and a nine of spades to make a straight flush, then he would be sitting in his underwear. Which could get really embarrassing if she continued to reach over her chest to scratch at her shoulder like that which made her breasts squish up against each other... And Emily was coming over later to have dinner with them.

"When you're ready," Gillian teased.

Cal took a longer look at his cards this time and could feel her eyes on him. It wasn't like he couldn't afford to win. He could just give her shirt back. But god, did he really, really want her to lose those trousers. Course he could fold and she could put clothes back on... Did she want him to? Win that was. What if she was playing him? Did that matter if the end result was the same? Please let the end result be the same.

Gillian reached for her wine glass again, finishing the last of it. When she went for it, boy could she drink, but most of the time she was careful. God he was having such a hard time focussing. "All right," he agreed. "Trousers and I'll go for your shirt."

"Great," Gillian flashed him a confident smile and Cal found himself silently begging. "Let's see them then."

Cal put his cards down on the table and watched her make the deductions in her head. Then she put her cards down. She had an ace and a nine of spades. So she had an ace-high flush; five cards of the same suit. Which meant if the 'turn' revealed a four Cal would win and if not, then Gillian had already won. Good lord it was tense. Probably one of the most tense poker games Cal had ever played and he'd come up against beautiful women before, albeit with their shirts on. Gillian turned over the last card with confidence and it was a four of diamonds.

"Yes!" Cal got to his feet quickly, tossing his cards to the table top. Gillian looked up at him in surprise. He grabbed her gently by the arms, tugging her to her feet. "Take them off." Gillian laughed and fended off his hands, then pulled him by the neck to kiss him fervently, crushing his body against hers, before shoving him back again. "Take them off," Cal growled at her, attempting to reach for her hips.

"Give me a second," Gillian protested good-naturedly, also reaching for the catch but Cal was already there. He pushed the large black button through the hole and whipped down the zipper. He attempted to pull the material open but there was something else hindering; her trousers resisted him. Gillian gave another slight laugh. "There's another button," she told him softly. Cal's fingers hesitated. "I'll get it," she whispered.

Cal pressed in close against her, hustling her back against the table. He heard her empty wine glass topple over and start to roll. He lowered his mouth to her neck, that soft spot beneath her ear, then her ear, her jaw. He heard her huff, felt her chest rise sharply against his, bare skin against his arms, the pressure of her wrists turning to undo the hidden button that would let her trousers go free. When her hands lifted to grip his shoulders Cal's moved in. He pushed at the material of her trousers so they slid down. He followed, smoothing his hands over her backside, making sure the table was not going to get in the way. Bare skin beneath his palms, she was wearing a thong. He gave her a squeeze and she licked the vein in his neck and it made him shiver, her hands scraping over his skull.

Cal smoothed his hands to her hips, pushing up a little so she would get the hint and jump. When she did, he sat her on the table. Her legs immediately parted to wrap around his thighs and he stepped forward and shifted them higher to his waist. He pressed against her as he went back to his gentle tease of her throat. She gave a little 'oh' and he felt her hands on his jeans buttons. She worked quickly and took him in her hand and stroked him gently but that was enough. Cal felt his blood pound through him and he had to stop kissing her to adjust, to catch his breath.

Gillian pressed her lips against the edge of his jaw, taking over when he let up, and Cal turned his head to kiss her fully on the mouth, delving deep, pushing at her with his shoulders, his hands gripping her hip and the edge of the table. Her fingers felt amazing and she did not let an inch of him go untouched. Cal dropped his head to her shoulder, panting, feeling his body quivering already. An 'oh' escaped Cal's lips too. Then he was aware of Gillian again, how hot her skin was, how she breathed so rapidly, how he could feel her pulse when he pressed his mouth to her throat. He tipped her back further and her hands flew to his shoulders so she didn't suddenly fall back against the table.

Cal lowered her gently, looking down for a moment at her heaving chest with appreciation. She gave him a faint smile, her eyes dark and glowing. He tugged her trousers off, stepping back a little, then dropped suddenly to the carpet, tucking his fingers behind her knees and bit her through her underwear. Gillian flinched and let out a cry and her feet came up to rest on Cal's shoulders. She lifted her head to see him and he gave a devilishly pleased grin, catching her right hand with his left to keep her from touching him, or interfering. With his right he pulled aside the material of her underwear and pressed his mouth against her. The muscles in her thighs tightened against his cheeks and he used his free hand to push her away again.

"Oh Cal," Gillian moaned, her fingers tightening against his, her feet using downward force to anchor herself. She gave a series of huffing breaths, trying to get a hold of herself; she was already most of the way there. Cal teased her in an agonisingly slow way, ignoring her requests for more or the way her thighs twitched closer and closer around his head. "Please," she switched phrases and Cal felt a little inclined to speed up the process. Now she was _really_ close and moaning louder and periodically calling out his name and pushing her hips up against him; it drove him wild. And all of a sudden, "No." It was a groan and then again, more insistent and she sat up a little, pulling at his hair to bring him up.

Cal gave her a surprised expression. She was right there, on the edge, he could tell, and it wouldn't take much to just push her over. "I want to feel you," she demanded almost on a whine, her eyes black, her cheeks bright red, her skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, her lungs working over time. She tugged on his hair again, bringing him to his feet and bunched up his shirt, pulling it over his head. Cal grabbed it out of her hand, wiped his face, tossed it to the side and fell forward into her arms. She kissed him hungrily, shifting her hips, having to lift her legs one at a time to move because her sweat stuck her to the wooden table top. Cal felt for her underwear and ripped it away quickly down her legs; less than a second and he was back, positing himself.

He waited and she gave a little thrust forward to indicate she was waiting and not too patiently about it. She wrapped him up in her, arms, legs, everywhere, so there wasn't an inch between them. Cal's knees almost gave out on him, the warm wet assault came from all angles; he took a moment to gather his senses, then made two little thrusts to find the right angle and that was it. Gillian shook against him and threw back her head, cursing at the ceiling, her hips pushing against him in a quick beat. Cal held her this time, feeling her heart right through her skin, pounding wildly as she quivered inside and out.

Before she had only just started to come down again, Cal moved his hips in long steady strokes and her fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging on. "Oh," she murmured again. "Cal," she breathed and encouraged; Cal let the tempo increase a little. She barely relaxed the entire time, periodically calling out and cursing and holding him so tightly; and seriously, the more she talked the more excited he got.

It was certainly not a record for length of time, but top marks went for the intensity. Cal wasn't sure, however he did kind of hope, and it certainly seemed like it, but maybe Gillian orgasmed the entire time he was shagging her. She was barely coherent in his arms and when he finally lost it and calmed down he could _still_ feel the fluttering of her against him, fingers and heart and inside and outside. She gave a little whimper into the silence. Cal had to unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth as he straightened up a little. He didn't let her go though; his arm was tightly around her back, still holding her up against him. "Are you all right?" He whispered, finding his voice lost.

Gillian looked up at him, dazed. "Yes?" It sounded like a question and Cal took a second to read her face, to see she _was_ ok, then he laughed a little and she joined him. Cal let her down to the table gently to let her finish catching her breath and stepped back. Cal's jeans and briefs were pooled around his ankles and Gillian still had on her bra and they had just had a top ten shag on the surface of his dining room table and the deck of cards they had been playing poker with.

"You like it on top of a table huh?" Gillian pulled herself up to sit.

Cal gave a slight grin. The other day it had been her coffee table. "I guess I'm gonna have to have you on every table I can find now that we've started. There's two in your office, two in mine, then there's the entire lab to think about," he stepped closer again and rested his head against her sternum for a moment, cushioned by her breasts, feeling her shake with mirth. He felt her hand comb through his hair and he sighed his contentment.

"What time did you say Emily was going to be home?"

Cal straightened up again, checking his watch. "Oh shit."


	42. Chapter 42

_AN: M Chapter_

**PJ**

Gillian pushed her front door closed and kicked off her shoes, they were new and killing her feet. Cal took off his sports coat and hung it on one of the hooks behind her door. It was hot today and it had caught them both by surprise. Cal kicked his own shoes off and removed his socks and before he got much further than that Gillian was stepping forward to start unbuttoning his shirt. She looked up at him and he looked down at her, only a little, because even without heels on they were almost the same height, and then their lips crashed together. Cal felt a surge rocket through him; heat and desire and excitement. Gillian's fingers worked quickly against his buttons and soon she was pushing back the material from his shoulders, letting it hit the floor as they gulped air and pressed against each other and kissed like they hadn't seen each other all day, when in fact, they had spent all day with each other.

Cal responded to the pressure of Gillian's hand against his bare upper arm and turned, taking a blind shuffling step backward. He smoothed his hands down her back and up under her shirt, pushing her towards him as he shuffled down the hall. The first door way he bumped into he turned within. In his mind's eye he figured this was her living room but her hands were on his belt and trousers, alternately diving inside to stroke him and focussing on the catch and he was not entirely paying attention to his surroundings. He had to break away for air, but went for her neck, bringing up his left hand to brush her hair out of the way. He kissed and sucked.

Gillian shoved him a little. "Don't leave a mark," she warned yet again. "Ever."

Cal smirked but would obey; she looked so serious when she said it and she said it a lot. Apparently that was one of her 'things'. He took a step back and bumped into the couch with his Achilles heel. "Ouch," he winced and stepped away but Gillian didn't let him go far; she grabbed his head and brought his lips to meet hers. He caught a glimpse of her flushed cheeks and dark eyes before he closed his own. She pressed against him again, forcing him back and he turned her, aiming for the couch, hoping he had worked out the distance all right in his head. He shifted his hands to her shirt; what the fuck was with all the buttons? There were twice as many as normal. Or something. Torture. There was hardly any distance between their bodies to even give him room to move and she already had him in hand, working him to a sweat, and she would _not_ let his tongue go. Cal wasn't even sure he was breathing anymore and he just wanted her. He grabbed both sides of her shirt and pulled them apart, popping every button off.

Gillian broke away and looked down at her own chest surprised, and then up at him again, an absence of surprise; acceptance. Her lips were swollen and Cal could feel the heat of her skin directly against his now and she was wearing white lace. He was aware of his chest heaving as he struggled for air but Gillian didn't seem to care because she wrapped an arm around his neck again, kissing him so hotly. He pushed forward into her and felt her start to drop back; they must have reached the couch, he hadn't bothered to check. He was wrong. It was the low table in the middle of the room. He felt Gillian drop down and he followed, her hand at the back of his neck keeping him close. He felt her shove the magazines on top of it out of the way, rather than watch, he was busy grazing his teeth against her neck and shoulder, hovering over her. The reading material rustled to the floor and then there was the heavier thud of the pyramid shaped candle that she had never lit but could still smell in the air; raspberries.

Gillian scooted backwards along the surface and Cal opened his eyes to see her holding herself up with her left hand resting against the wood, the other was still around his neck. He placed his hands on his hips, pushing the material of his trousers and underwear down. Gillian licked her lips and looked up at him hungrily and he just about died. He leaned over her quickly and she moved so her back was flat against the wood, her stomach concave as she breathed rapidly, her shoulders lifted so she could still reach him, welcoming him against her body. He felt her parting her legs for him, shifting her hips and he dipped a hand between them, groping for the edge of her underwear. Gillian shivered and let out a little 'oh' and her fingers tightened against the back of his shoulder. She pressed a kiss against the edge of his eye as he pulled her underwear aside, driven by the agony in the pit of his stomach. He wanted her so badly... he wanted her right now and he pushed into her hard and she threw back her head so she was arching up against the table, "Oh!"

Cal moved his hands to either side of her head, looking down at her, needing a second to see around the edge of her heat and the swell of her chest and her body curved for him and then, "Oh fuck Gillian I'm sorry." He dropped his head, tried to pull back with his hips. "I didn't check... I'm sorry."

Gillian pressed her thighs up against either side of his hips. "I was ready in the car on the way home," she murmured, pulling him in to kiss, pushing back with her hips to make him slide against her a little. The both felt the twitch of his pulse deep within her and Gillian groaned loudly. "Go Cal. Fucking go!" She requested, her voice thick with desperation.

Cal pulled back, pivoting on his hands and thrust into her hard. He didn't even hesitate or wait just withdrew and did it again and again and again until his back started to ache and he shifted a hand to grip the edge of the table above her head for more leverage. He worked himself into more of a sweat and Gillian was crying out with every push of their hips, her head turning from side to side, her fingernails clawing into his shoulders and arms and then down into his lower back. "Oh god please! Please!" She begged lifting her head slightly and banging it down against the hard wooden table. "Cal please! Oh Cal!"

He pushed harder, more desperate, wanting to release himself just as badly as he did her. With every thrust she moved up the table a few centimetres until her head was almost hanging off the other end and Cal had to kneel on the table to stay close to her; the hard surface hurt his knees but that didn't slow him down. Gillian lifted her head to press against his shoulder. Cal could feel the tease of lace against his bare chest and it excited him more and more until he felt like he might turn himself inside-out with built up tension. He was at the point where he couldn't hold out anymore. He needed her to go. He felt Gillian's teeth against the crook of his shoulder and finally the quiver of her body as she reached that point too and thank god, he didn't have to hold on anymore. He burst into her for such a long time he was aware of the tail end of his orgasm as he gained his senses again; his breath was loud and ragged and still Gillian clung on to him tightly, gasping and whimpering and shaking.

Cal shifted them down the table a little so Gillian was no longer hanging off the edge and he could put his feet back down on the carpet. Then he unlocked his elbows and lowered both of them to the table gently, and then he dropped against her, his face in her breasts. She shifted a hand limply to the nape of his neck; her skin was hot and damp and he could feel every shaky breath she sucked in. Cal had to turn his head so he didn't suffocate himself and listened to her heart pounding out his name. God that was hot. Some of the hottest sex they'd had ever. In three months of shagging each other stupid, that had to be in the top five.

Seriously.

Cal stayed that way, blanketing her body, for a long time and then the ache of his elbows and legs against the table was too much to ignore. He pushed away from her and she gave him a sharp whimper of displeasure. "I'm sorry," he murmured, hovering. "Did I hurt you?" He had been rather enthusiastic and not exactly thinking about being gentle love making.

"No," she whispered back. She had her eyes closed and her arms fell away to land on the table top where Cal's had been a moment before. Cal pulled his trousers back up to his hips and looked down at her. She just lay there, shirt wide open, skirt up around her pelvis; kind of dirty. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit up and she complained again.

"Couch," Cal directed her.

"Carry me."

Cal pulled her closer and leaned down and slung her over his shoulder, a fireman's grip, straightening up as she laughed. He grinned and headed for the couch, turning to drop her on to it. She clung on to him and pulled him down with her, so her legs were wrapped around his hips. Cal's back hit the couch. Gillian turned her body and straightened out her legs and he settled into the gap she had created. They lay together, belly to belly, Gillian resting her head on Cal's upper arm, Cal placing his right hand in the small of her back and putting his head on the arm of the couch, from there he could breathe in the scent of her shampoo easily.

"This was one of my favourite shirts," Gillian told him lightly, letting her fingers smooth over the hair at his navel. She looked up to catch his eye and he saw the smile there.

"Sorry bout that. I'll find all the buttons."

Gillian pressed her lips in the hollow beneath his jaw and gave a 'hmm.' "You know... we really need to... slow it down."

"What?" Cal asked alarmed.

Gillian tilted her head back to look up at him. "With all the sex. You're making me sore," she pouted a little.

"Sorry," Cal murmured genuinely and pressed his lips against hers, pushing his hand at her back to make her rest against him. He _had_ been too rough then.

Gillian turned her head, as if she could see, to look behind her. "My shoulders are going to bruise."

Cal pressed his palm against her gently. "Sorry," he whispered again. Giving her another soft kiss. He should have more presence of mind.

"Not that it's not freaking amazing every time," she went on with a little sigh. "It's just that... we haven't gone twenty-four hours..."

Cal chuckled. "You're keepin' score?"

"You're not?" Gillian retorted.

"I wasn't exactly countin'."

"Neither am I," Gillian said defensively. "But... you don't think it's too much? Look at your shoulder."

Cal turned his head to see. Huge almost pink welts had risen up where her nails had assaulted his skin. He could see red pooling beneath where capillaries had been broken but the skin had not and the blood wasn't able to break through to the surface. Geeze.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Gillian went on and Cal realised she wasn't talking about it being too much for herself, not entirely, but for him. He was pushing his mid-forties.

"You make me feel young again," Cal told her.

She blinked at him, startled.

"I want you more than I've eva wanted anyone in my life," he gave her the sincerest expression he could muster because, really, it was fucking true. He gave her another soft kiss. "God knows how I get any work done."

"I see you looking at me," she responded with a little smile.

Cal felt his stomach quiver.

"Sometimes," she added softly. She looked down and then up and her eyes were heavy with a longing they had only just satisfied. Cal let his eyes rove over face, down to her chest, back up again. It had the desired effect; she shivered and threw herself against him again so he could feel her breasts, still damp with sweat, against his bare chest. "Oh god," she murmured against the side of his head. "I want you all of the time."

Cal grinned.

"You smug bastard."

Cal chuckled.

"Twenty four hours," Gillian suddenly declared. She pulled back to look up at him. She raised her eyebrows as if he were supposed to know what she was talking about. "You stay at your place and I'll stay here and we'll just take twenty-four hours without having sex."

"Do we have to be in separate buildin's for that to happen?" Cal teased.

Gillian smacked his shoulder lightly. "I'm serious."

"I can see but I don't get why."

"Because..."

"Are you afraid our relationship is based entirely on sex?" Cal kissed the edge of her jaw by her ear and she sighed against his. ""Do we need to talk more and share our feelin's? Cos we had years of no-sex, I figa we're just tryin' to make up all that time."

Gillian started to grin and then she frowned and slapped him again. "We were _married_," she pointed out as if she were aghast.

"Shame it wasn't to each otha," Cal dropped innocently and then watched her face as she tried to figure out what he meant by that and if she should read something in to it and finally she settled on ignoring the comment. Before she could retort though, Cal went on. "Em found your undawear in our wash."

"What?" Gillian's eyes went wide. "You told me you'd intercept it."

"Well I tried and she beat me to it."

"Cal."

"What? She already knows we're datin' I'm sure she can figa out we're sleepin' togetha."

"Well now she knows for sure."

Cal gave a little shrug.

"What did she say?"

"She said 'these aren't mine'."

Gillian slapped his shoulder harder this time and Cal chuckled again. "She said 'you don't have to sneak around, I know you're sleepin' with Gill'." Cal paused. "And then she asked if we were bein' 'safe' and then she said that you should stay ova sometime cos it wasn't a big deal."

"She asked if we were being safe?" Gillian was surprised again. Or mortified. It was hard to tell. "What did you tell her?"

"I said 'fuck no we aren't'."

"Cal!"

"Well that's the truth," Cal pointed out.

Gillian watched him for a moment. "You're right. We're not being 'safe' at all."

Cal raised his eyebrows at her, inviting her to answer his silent question: should we be?

Gillian shook her head a little. "I can't get pregnant if that's what you mean."

"Oh."

"And there was no one between Alec and you. Alec might have been flying high but he didn't cheat."

Seriously, sometimes she really surprised him. She spoke so matter-of-factly about her ex-husband and their marriage and just a few months ago she had spent a lot of time adjusting. He mumbled something about getting himself checked out, which she accepted and that was that. A conversation they should have had months ago.

"You could stay ova," Cal said into the silence.

"I stay over," Gillian pointed out.

"When Em's there," Cal clarified patiently.

"I don't know."

"Why not? You want twenty-four hours sex-free. I don't want twenty-four hours apart. It's win-win." Unless she really was serious about them having to be in other buildings to keep their hands off each other. Which was funny and flattering but he was serious too. He didn't want her to go home alone. He wanted her with him. He should probably be worried about that kind of attitude, but it was the truth and he always had faith in trusting the truth.

Gillian was silent for a moment and Cal closed his eyes turning his cheek against her head. She was still very warm. He waited and after a long moment of quiet, where he could hear his own heart pound in his ear, she said: 'ok'.


	43. Chapter 43

"Tomorrow," Cal reinforced as he headed towards his office.

"Fine!" Ria called over her shoulder as she walked in the opposite direction towards _her_ office.

Cal heard his phone start to ring in his pocket and he grinned as he walked away from his little protégé. Not that she was really his protégé anymore. She probably spent more time working cases than Cal did these days. "Yeah?" He answered the call.

"Hi, it's me."

"Hi me," Cal smiled again, letting the warmth of knowing his wife was calling him wash through his stomach.

"Lewis is a bit upset and wants to talk to you."

"Oh?" Cal's good mood several notches rapidly. He reached his office and closed the door. "What happened?"

"Some kid at school was making fun of his hearing aids," her voice went tight with anger and she spoke with an edge, like she didn't want someone to overhear.

"They what?" Cal asked disgusted, heading for his desk.

"He said they were calling him 'dumbo'," her voice got even quieter.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Cal muttered but he knew this was inevitable. At some point, some insecure kid, was going to point out to everyone else, that Lewis was noticeably different. And like a pack of animals the rest would join in or ignore Lewis's plight because someone else was getting it and that meant that they weren't.

"Cal."

"Yeah I'll talk to him. Put him on," Cal softened his voice.

"What are you going to say to him?"

"I don't know."

"Cal." Her voice was a warning.

Cal sighed. She meant, he wasn't going to nut off was he? He wasn't going to teach Lewis to do something vindictive. "I don't know. Ask him how his day was? What do you want me to say?"

"I just want to know you're not going to go sound off about that kid."

Cal distinctly heard the distaste in her tone, the emphasis on 'that'. She wasn't impressed either but maybe Lewis was next to her so she was holding it in. "I'm more worried about my kid than _that kid_," Cal told her and hoped it was enough of a persuasion without also promising anything. He had every intention of teaching Lewis how to get back at the other kid. He was annoyed.

"Ok, hang on," Gillian indicated she was going to put Lewis on.

There was a slight scuffling sound and then the tiny hollow voice of Lewis. "Hi Dad."

"Hey darlin'," Cal greeted him. He didn't have to shout for the boy to hear him over the phone, his hearing aids were sophisticated enough that they could 'tune in' to the frequency of the device; it was like the phone transmitted straight to his hearing aids, but only when it was close enough. He couldn't listen in on conversations that were not meant for him. He could also programme into radios, the tv, mp3 players, computers and other 'transmitting' devices. He was tuned in to both his parent's cell phones and it was so nice to be able to talk to him over the phone. "Mum told me you didn't have a very good day?" Cal found his hand raising to sign and had to consciously stop himself.

There was a stretch of silence. Cal heard Gillian in the background and then Lewis came back with, "Yep." He sounded so pitiful Cal wanted to climb into the phone and hug him. Or head home immediately.

"I'm sorry to hear that munchkin. Wanna tell me about it?"

"This boy laughed at me cos he said my ears were funny," that pouting almost crying tone of voice. Great.

"Who was that?" Cal asked gently.

"I don't know."

"You don't know his name?"

"No."

"He's not in your class?" Cal pried.

"No."

"All right. So this was at playtime?"

"It was when I was eating my lunch."

So some shit from another class. Cal bet the kid was older than Lewis too. He wouldn't pick on someone his own size would he?

"And then he threw a branch at me and it hit my leg and it hurt a lil bit and the other kids laughed and then he called me a dumbo cos my ears were funny. And they were saying I was ugly looking. Daddy I don't wanna wear the aids anymore." And then he did start crying softly.

Aw shit.

Cal got to his feet, pacing, pent up energy; anger and anguish. His baby boy. Some ignorant little shit picking on his son. Where was Gillian? Was she hugging him? "Darlin' listen to me," Cal spoke gently but firmly, making his voice a little louder over the sound of his five and a half year old's tears. "Your hearin' aids help you hear betta. You know that buddy. You know when you take them off it's harda to hear things. If you didn't have them on we couldn't talk on the phone right now. I really like talkin' to you so I wish you would wear them."

Lewis gave a splutter.

"They're not funny at all and you don't look funny with them Lew. You look like a brave young man. Lots of people tell me so, all the time when they see you. I wish I was brave like you."

"You are brave," Lewis countered weakly, his voice watery.

"Not as brave as you are though," Cal turned towards his windows and leaned over the cabinet beneath them so he could see the pavement and people walking by and the cars driving past. The world kept turning and yet it seemed like it should stop because Lewis was upset.

"Yes. When you had the sore on your head and you were in the spital for ages."

Cal gave a little smile. Good boy Lewis, fight back.

"It took ages to get better but you got better and you tried real hard and the man helped you learning to walk again."

Cal's smile stuck around a little longer. "You help me to be brave. Maybe I could help you? Maybe we can be brave togetha? You and me. What do you reckon?"

"And Wen," Lewis's voice lost some of its thickness. "Cos he was in the special spital for the tiny babies for ages too."

"He was," Cal agreed. "And now he's home with us."

"And growing up big," Lewis added, sounding stronger.

"He absolutely is. What about Mum? Can she be in our club? I think Mum's brave."

"I like Mum."

"Me too," Cal agreed. "A lot."

"Mum can be in our club."

"Great," Cal enthused. "What about some friends from school? Can they be in our cool club for brave people?"

"Um there's Hector. His Daddy died in a war."

Cal didn't know that. But it was perfect for proving his point. "Anyone else?"

"Megan has glasses."

"She can definitely be in our club. I have glasses too."

"And Mum!"  
>"Yeah!" Cal agreed. She did. Very cute ones. "Neat. But what about the kid who was mean to you?"<p>

"No," Lewis grumped. "He's no allowed in my club."

"But what if he had somethin' special about him too?"

There was silence and Lewis hesitated. "But he's mean."

"Yeah he sounds mean," Cal agreed. "If he were nice could he join?"

Lewis hesitated again. "Yeassss," he drew the word out in more hesitation; it sounded a bit like a question. This is what Cal liked about Lewis. There were a million things he liked about Lewis but this in particular was pretty special: he had a huge capacity to love. And he was always willing to take that time to see something from another perspective, even if he probably didn't realise that was what he was doing at this point.

"Cos the thing is, the kid who was mean, he has somethin' special about him too, somethin' that makes him different from everyone else. And maybe that thing is also the thing that makes him mean because he doesn't have someone to help him with his special thing. You know? Like how Docta Rosario helps you with your ears. And how Docta Rockwell helped fix the sore on my head. And Adam helped me learn to walk again. And how Mum helps us all the time by makin' us lunch and dinna and givin' us lots of hugs. Maybe this boy doesn't have anyone who gives him lots of hugs."

Cal paused and Lewis was silent.

"And maybe that's what makes him mean."

"He doesn't have a Mum?"

"I don't know," Cal answered carefully. "I don't know him. And you don't know him. What if he didn't have a Mum? Or what if his Mum didn't make his lunch special for him? The thing is Lew, we don't know do we?"

"Oh."

Or maybe the kid was just a dumb fuck, ignorant, a shit, whose parents didn't raise him to be respectful of other people. Especially those who were different to him. Cal took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Next time he comes ova to where you are, ask him what his name is and what class he's in. So then we'll know that about him instead of just nothin' at all."

And that probably wouldn't stop the kid from telling Lewis his ears were funny but it might just throw him off enough to lose some confidence. And if that didn't work, then at least when Cal went down to the school to talk to some teacher's he'd have a name and a class number to work off of.

"I don't want to," Lewis's voice got small again.

"You're brave aren't you?" Cal asked gently.

"Hm," Lewis answered and Cal could picture him nodding his head.

"Just try it. See what happens. And if he tells you you're ugly you rememba this, I said you weren't. All right?"

"Ok."

"And if he tells you your ears are funny, you can laugh, cos they're not, are they?"

"No," Lewis conceded, though he didn't sound overly convinced.

"And Lew? Rememba this too. I love you. Very, very much. And Mum loves you very, very much. And Wen loves you very, very much. And Grandma and Grandpa and Emily and Ajay and Uncle Matthew and Aunt Kate and Arianna and Rachel and Max. And Uncle Eli and Aunt Ria and Uncle Karl. That's lots of people."

"Yeah," Lewis gave a little sigh.

"Will you give me a cuddle when I get home?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. I love havin' cuddles with you."

"I love your cuddles Dad."

"And maybe before I get home you could practice havin' cuddles with Mum?"

"Ok," Lewis agreed easily.

"She gives the best cuddles."

"Yeah."

"I'm really proud of you Lew. You're such a lovely wee man."

"I love you Dad."

"I love you too," Cal told him with as much emphasis as he could load into his voice. They said goodbye but before the call was disconnected Cal said: "Gill?"

"Yes," her voice was there immediately.

"Did you hear all that?"

"Every word."

So she _had_ put him on speaker phone.

"How'd I do?"

"I wanna have babies with you," she murmured.

Cal gave a slight laugh, surprised by her response. So now he must _not_ be on speaker phone. "Get in line," he growled out. "See you soon."

"Love you."

"Love you too."


	44. Chapter 44

"Hmm," Gillian murmured, tilting her head back against the sun and closing her eyes. "Such a beautiful day."

"Yeah," Cal agreed, tilting his head to the side to watch her. She was stretched out on a sun lounger, in a bikini, her tanned skin glistening with sun-block and sweat. Cal was hiding from the sun in the shade of the house. She looked gorgeous.

"I can feel you staring," Gillian spoke again, with her eyes still shut.

Cal smiled to himself and tried to focus on his book again. She had sunglasses on. How did she even know? A bee buzzed close to Cal's ear and he waved a hand absently to bat it away again, encouraging it to move on. In the corner of the garden Lewis and Owen were playing in their sand-pit. Practically eight-year-old Lewis had taken the hose over to make the sand wet so he could pack it into various containers for different shapes and sizes. It looked like a small city over there. Three-year-old Owen was crouched down following instructions given by his big brother, when he was actually given some; most of what Cal heard Lewis saying was 'no don't touch that!'

Gillian suddenly sat up. "Where are you goin'?" Cal inquired lightly, aware he was sounding a bit like an over protective husband; a freaking stalker.

"Bathroom," Gillian responded.

Cal felt a little silly. Surely she could go pee without Cal having to know where she was for two minutes? Her fault for being so addictive. He put his book down too and got up to stretch his legs a bit. He seriously needed to get a grip. It wasn't good for him to be following her around like a love sick puppy.

"No!" Lewis cried and Cal turned his head to see the eight-year-old raise his hand to strike. Cal opened his mouth to yell but Lewis lowered it and instead shoved at a heap of sand in frustration. Owen babbled something in response that Cal didn't quite hear, even as he approached, but Lewis looked up at his younger brother and glared.

The sandpit was in the shade of a tall gum in the corner and Cal felt relief as he headed into its shadows, even from the short walk across the grass; the sun was intense. How Gillian could stand the heat, Cal didn't know. The boys had on shirts, shorts and sunscreen but were barefoot. They were supposed to be wearing hats too but Owen didn't like wearing one and seeing as they were in the shade it didn't matter too much. Owen's blonde hair was bright, like it had been sun-bleached. Lewis's was a light brown, like his mother's. The sun made both of their freckles come out.

"Hi Dad," Owen stood to greet him. He had sand around his mouth, like he had been eating it. Cal hoped not. Who knew which neighbourhood animal also tried to use the sand box as a convenient toilet? "Look what we made."

Lewis sat back, a grumpy expression on his face.

"It's fantastic," Cal responded observing what was in front of him. It _was_ like a city. There were various tall structures, that Lewis had used a broad square plastic container to stack two sand castles on top of each other. He had the rounded shapes made by a bucket and a road between them and a few more smaller structures made from yoghurt pottles and an assortment of mounds with sticks in them that must be Owen creations.

"That's house," Owen pointed, proud, even as his brother sulked. "That's a fiss."

'_Office_,' Cal figured. He sat at the edge of the raised box.

"Like your fiss Dad."

"It's really great Owen," Cal enthused some more. "What's this here?" He pointed to the half formed mound Lewis was taking his time working through his frustration over. "Lewis?"

"Nothing," he grumbled.

"It's bidge," Owen answered. "But it fells down."

"It keeps collapsing," Lewis mumbled. He signed a vicious 'destroy', which he had learnt when Owen was at the age of destruction. But to his credit, and this made Cal quite proud, he hadn't hit, lashed out, or totalled the entire complex in a tantrum.

"Tell me what's happenin'," Cal leaned down on his hand to see better and Owen approached to sit in his lap. The boy was sticky with sweat and sun-block but his skin was cool to the touch.

"I build it like this," Lewis leaned forward again and carefully carved away the wet sand. "But it falls in." He worked one side and then the other. Owen offered his father a stick which Cal accepted and then as soon as he had and didn't use it, Owen took it back to poke into the sand. "But it gets really narrow here," Lewis showed his father where the bridge over the tunnel he had dug crumbled away at the edges. He threw out a quick 'little' sign and kept working and eventually the structure collapsed and Lewis huffed, bringing up accusing blue eyes to his father.

"Right," Cal quickly interjected. "Wet sand is a good first step," he started with praise and sure enough, Lewis gave a small pleased smile. "What it needs is a bit more support though," Cal mused, using his right fist to push up his left. Lewis was silent and Cal figured he was out of ideas. "Wait a second and I'll be right back," he held his hands off to the side upright and gave his fingers a wiggle. He shifted Owen and got up quickly.

"Dad!" Owen called after him. "I go."

Cal slowed down to wait for the boy to catch up to him. His short blonde hair bounced against his skull as he ran at his father's legs. Cal scooped him up easily, swinging him up against his hip. Owen giggled. "You're as bad as I am," Cal told him. Before Owen could query the statement Cal asked him if he was having fun in the sand pit. Owen nodded and they headed inside. Cal carried Owen over to the breakfast bar where there was a tray of art supplies and when he didn't find what he wanted he checked the pantry shelves.

"Hey!" Gillian protested coming in to the kitchen. "You're getting sand everywhere."

Cal looked down at the floor. There was a little dusting where it had rubbed off his bare feet and Owen's clothes. "Sorry," he rubbed a fist around his chest. "I'll clean it up late-a. Where are the ice-block sticks?"

"Mumeeeee!" Owen crooned at her, reaching out with his arms for her to take him.

"What do you want those for?" Gillian approached. In bare feet she seemed quite short. Cal looked down at her, making sure she had a hold of the toddler before Cal let him go. "You're all damp," Gillian noted.

"They've got the hose out," Cal informed her. With both arms free he could reach up on his tip toes for the top shelf.

"Are you eating the sand Owen, or playing with it?"

"We building."

"Aren't they up here?"

"They're in the plastic container," Gillian directed and turned away. "Are your pull-ups dry Batman?" She moved her index finger across her mouth, turning it into an "X" hand shape.

Owen shook his head. "They're not?" Cal heard her ask as he grasped the blue plastic container above his head.

"Yes."

"They are?"

"Yes."

"Ok, let me check."

Owen gave a screech of displeasure and Cal smiled to himself as he emerged from the pantry, pushing the door closed behind him until it clicked. Gillian had Owen stood on a bar stool while she looked down the back of his trousers at his pull ups. He hadn't quite earned the trust for undies yet. Sometimes he got a few hours if he was under close supervision. And he would go on the big toilet but only if he was reminded. He had just turned three, but wouldn't start at day care until he was fully toilet trained; he was right on the verge. Cal suspected Gillian was trying to use up the pull-ups.

"All right," Gillian conceded he was still dry. "Shall we get you some undies? Seeing as you're still dry? Like a big boy?"

"Poo," Owen suddenly announced.

"You want to go poos?" Gillian asked enthusiastically, bending her legs a little to bring her down to her son's height.

"Swimmy poo," Owen clarified. "Dad take us swimmy poo."

"Maybe late-a," Cal answered as he went by.

"Dad!" Owen called after him. Cal turned back at the open sliding door that led out to the patio. "Swimmy poo!"

"What's the magic word?" Cal asked.

"Pease," Owen rubbed a flat hand against his chest in a clock-wise direction.  
>Gillian looked over at him and Cal gave a slight shrug to say he didn't mind. "Only if you're good," Gillian answered. Cal stepped outside.<p>

"I good," Owen countered.

"Yeah sure you are," Gillian answered dryly as Cal walked away.

Lewis had a way of huddling over himself when he crouched on the u so he seemed very small but he was shooting up at the moment and Cal was starting to feel a little alarmed that the kid might actually be _taller_ than he was when he finished growing. Lewis was squatting over his square plastic container of sand and was carefully raising the sides to leave the sand behind.

"All right," Cal took his seat again and Lewis turned to him, pivoting on his shin. "I got reinforcements."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"What we're gonna do, is use them to hold the roof up, like in a mine," Cal opened the container.

"A mine?" Lewis queried.

"You know, how they dig in the earth?"

"Oh."

"They use wood to hold up the sides. Or they used to," Cal mused to himself, taking out a few of the sticks and handing them to Lewis. "Here. I think we should break these ones in half," he snapped a stick in two and it made a relatively clean break. Cal picked off the a few stray splinters then put the two sticks into the groove Lewis had already dug out. Cal figured he was going to run the hose beneath, so it was like a river, or it was meant to be a traffic tunnel. "You do yours," Cal indicated the two he had given his son. Lewis snapped his and Cal broke a few more and they made a little row and another on the other side. Then Cal took more sticks, keeping them whole, and placed them on top, to form a wooden bridge. "Now, put the sand on top," Cal directed. "But carefully."

Lewis's smaller hands worked while Cal held the sticks in place so they wouldn't fall and watched the concentration on his son's face. He packed the sand down like mud and eventually he had himself a bridge. He sat back and Cal withdrew his hand and they both watched it for a while. "It works!" Lewis announced, pleased. He looked over to his father with a grin.

Cal smiled in return. "Great work."

"Thanks Dad."

"You're welcome my darlin'."

"Dad!" Owen called out from across the grass. "You come in here."

"You come here," Cal called back. He turned to Lewis who was testing out his bridge by walking his fingers over it like they were the legs of a man. "Lew," he got his son's attention. "You wanna go swimmin' maybe late-a?"

Lewis's blue eyes lit up. "Oh yes!"

"Afta lunch."

Lewis nodded.

"Dad!" Owen yelled again. "Come here!"

"What for?" Cal called back, signing a 'wh?' question at his youngest son who was hanging out of the house, his feet on the track of the sliding door. His legs were bare now, no shorts, so Cal figured the three-year-old was in his briefs.

"Mum said!"

"All right," Cal got to his feet with a sigh. Lewis had the hose in his hand and was twisting it slowly to let the water out. Cal was right. It was meant to be a river. "Maybe a lake Lew?" Cal suggested. Lewis looked confused for a second. Cal indicated the sandpit. "For your riva."

"Oh," Lewis turned back to his work and Cal headed for the house.


	45. Chapter 45

Cal got to go first, which may not have been a good thing necessarily, if he'd had any idea what Gillian had been planning. Smugly, he thought she was going to have to live up to what he had planned for their anniversary when they went on her date on Sunday. Surely she had not put as much thought into it as he had. But then, when they were getting ready to go out and Gillian had said 'well if it's a surprise at least give me a hint about the dress code' and Cal had said 'casual' and she said 'oh' and then 'ok' he thought maybe he hadn't tried hard enough. They already went out to nice restaurants that required those incredible dresses and heels and hair and makeup and he had figured, when he was making his plans, that because they always did that, if they did it again on their anniversary, their ten year wedding anniversary, that it just would not be special enough. So he had hunted around for something else, something that wasn't their normal, but wasn't completely crazy, and he thought he had done a good job. Now he was nervous.

"Are you nervous?" Gillian's hand came to rest on his thigh, up high and Cal shifted in his seat.

"Uh yeah that makes me a little nervous."

He could feel Gillian smirking at him across the car. She was in jeans, nice jeans, and a pink shirt with grey and silver pin stripes so that it almost looked like it was shiny and her brown leather jacket. She looked great, as she always did; casual meant 'casual nice'. So Cal was also in jeans, dark ones, and a black shirt with a sports coat. No matter what he did, next to her, he felt underdressed.

Gillian's hand shifted higher and Cal straightened up even more, his foot hesitant on the gas; he needed to slouch a little to reach. "Did I mention we're headed to a public place? Might not be a good look walkin' around with a hard on."

Gillian laughed, gave his leg a tight lingering squeeze and withdrew it. She turned in her seat to face him. "So where are we going?"

"That's cheatin'," Cal told her. "You can't just ask outright."

"Fine," she pretended to huff. "Is it an activity?"

"What does that mean?"

"You know, going to do something, like... um... sailing a boat, as opposed to having dinner. Which I'm already guessing we're not. Although, you better be feeding me at some point Cal Lightman."

"Course. You put out if you're fed."

Her hand struck him in the upper arm and he laughed while she huffed again. "Are we going sailing?"

"No."

"Does the date require physical activity? Because I wouldn't have worn these shoes..."

"Only if you want it to luv," Cal responded. Her hand hit him again.

"Don't push your luck." But the way she said it certainly did not sound like a 'no'.

"No physical exertion mandatory," Cal answered. He made a turn on the bridge and Gillian was silent for a moment as she watched the river slide by beneath them. Cal figured she was probably trying to work out what was in Rosslyn, Virginia. She guessed a few more but really, she can't have been thinking about it too carefully because they were random and she didn't really get any clues out of him. Not until he pulled into a side street did she suddenly click. Probably helped there was a giant billboard advertising.

"We're going to see a movie?" Her face was delighted as they parked in a side street.

"You like movies," Cal noted, withdrawing the keys from the ignition.

"I do," Gillian agreed.

"You'll like this movie too."

She gave him a slight smile in the streetlight. Cal pulled on the latch for his door and got out. He went to the boot and pulled out two folded blankets and a few cushions; of course, the idea was that she would cuddle up to him but what was he going to lean on? He'd also packed a picnic while Gillian was in the shower getting ready. It was really hard to hide different food in the refrigerator; from Gillian _and_ the boys.

Gillian watched him and smiled. She offered to help carry something and Cal refused her. She linked her arm around his as they walked, the picnic basket banging between them gently. Gillian picked the spot and they headed towards it. Cal made a show of tossing out the first blanket for them to sit on and placing the cushions for her. "What time does the movie start?"

"Eight," Cal responded. "Something to eat?"

"Yes please," Gillian enthused, leaning back on her elbow.

Cal had packed food from the deli, marinated olives, dried marinated tomatoes, feta cheeses, cured meats and pickles and other finger foods. But he'd also made her sandwiches and there were juice boxes and carrot sticks. He handed her a juice box and she laughed. "Sammie?" Cal pulled the lid and offered her the container.

Gillian peered in and gave a little gasp. She sat up straighter. "You cut the crusts off?" She gushed, covering her mouth with one hand and looking up at him with shiny eyes. Cal gave her a slight grin. "When you're trying to be cute..." she started and took a sandwich in each hand, crossing her legs in front of her. She took a bite and watched him for a moment. "What else have you got in there?"

"You'll find out," he responded simply. He had dessert as well. How could he not? Biscuits and dried apricots with a chocolate dipping sauce, hot chocolate for when it got colder and milk duds. The movie was free; he had to really go all out on everything else didn't he?

Gillian finished her sandwiches and opened her juice box and Cal offered her a little fork that Owen used to use when he was learning how to use utensils, so she could spear and pick from the cheeses and other selections. "Wait, where's your fork?" Gillian asked him, amused. Cal produced a plastic one. "Aw," she pouted. "Here," she offered him the pastrami and feta she had already snagged. Cal leaned forward and opened his mouth. Her grin got wider until she was beaming as she ate.

Ten minutes into their picnic the movie started. They weren't entirely surrounded but the open aired venue had filled up a little more. Other couples and families and groups were also eating, take out and snack foods. "Had enough?" Cal asked as the opening credits started.

"Yeah," Gillian whispered as she shifted to lie back, moving a cushion to support her head and neck. "Oh I love this movie!"

Cal gave her a grin. He knew that. And it was a freaking fantastic spot of luck that it happened to be playing the weekend of their wedding anniversary. He put everything away again, most of it gone, and settled beside her. Gillian pulled on his arm and lifted it above their heads. She settled it behind her neck and cuddle up against him, using his shoulder as a pillow now, exactly how Cal had planned it. The second blanket was for in case she got cold but at least for a while his body heat would suffice.

_When Harry Met Sally_ played on the big screen but Cal paid more attention to the feel of his wife against him. Her hand smoothed absently against his shirt and after a while she draped a leg over his and pressed her lips against his neck. "This is great, thank you Cal."

Cal shifted his hand over her arm and gave it a squeeze. "You're welcome." God she smelt good.

An hour later Cal felt Gillian shiver. "Are you cold?" He murmured.

"I'm starting to feel it," she admitted.

Cal sat up, dislodging her and grabbed the second blanket, shaking it out to drape over them, making sure she had most of it and that she was all covered up. He turned on his side and she did the same and they embraced, using the cushions stacked on top of each other to prop their heads up. Gillian shifted so her forehead was resting against Cal's sternum and he could feel her hands against his chest, curled up between them. He slipped a hand up the back of her leather jacket, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt. He tried to pick up the plot to but the truth was, he hadn't seen this movie in over twenty years and he didn't care much for it then, let alone now. It was just nice to be with his wife and not have to go somewhere or worry about what their children were up to.

Cal reached behind him for the picnic basket and produced the box of milk duds. "Oh!" Gillian breathed surprised. "Of course you have dessert in there."

"Of course," Cal agreed, trying to pry it open with one hand. Gillian laughed a little and took it from him, pulling back the cardboard tab. She tipped out two onto her hand and raised one to slip past his lips. Cal grinned. "And the otha one, go on." Gillian gave a slight laugh and pushed the other into his mouth, withdrawing her hand sharply when he licked her fingers. Gillian took a few for herself and settled against him once more, the box between them. They ate about half and then Cal felt around behind him for the apricots and chocolate. Gillian opened them both as well. She dipped the fruit and fed them to Cal slowly. He wondered if she was even watching the movie now. She waited eagerly for the next treat once they had finished. Cal found the container of cheese and put it back, then the olives and put that back. "Oh you're just teasing," Gillian told him, leaning in closer so she was over his chest.

"I can't bloody see," Cal grumped.

"What are you looking for?"

"Cookies."

Gillian pushed herself up a little and Cal turned over on to his back. Gillian dug through the picnic basket. Somewhere in the darkness someone called out and it sounded like a child. Then a dog barked and it seemed the entire gathering lost concentration for a moment. "Found them," Gillian announced softly and turned to plant a warm kiss on his mouth. Surprised, Cal lay still. "You're so sweet," Gillian murmured, pulling away again.

"I just had chocolate," Cal responded. She gave him a smirk opened the container. There was one each. Two huge chocolate chip cookies. Cal sat up a little more to eat. "There's cocoa too if you want."

"Oh yeah!" Gillian enthused. "You spoil me."

"I try," Cal countered, reaching into the basket again. He was surprised she didn't find it herself, but then again, it was dark. He poured and they sipped, eating their cookies, ignoring the movie for awhile. The cocoa had lost some of its heat so Cal consumed his rather quickly. Gillian savoured it and she watched him over the rim of her plastic mug.

"This is really nice," she told him.

"I made it with twice the chocolate," Cal told her, which is how she liked it.

"The whole evening," Gillian clarified. She handed him her empty mug and he tossed it over his shoulder to get out any last drops, careful to check there was no one camped out there first, then put it back in the basket and closed the lid. He was out of treats. "Come and lie with me," Gillian suggested.

Cal immediately took his place and Gillian snuggled up close while Cal fixed the blanket over them again. "I love you," Gillian murmured against the skin of his neck.

"Love you too," Cal tightened his arm around her back, beneath the blanket. Their legs entwined in each other's and Cal didn't think she could even see the screen anymore. They didn't have to say much more after that. It had all been said. Ten years of marriage had accounted for just about everything. Lying close like this was enough. Cal knew all the things Gillian would be thinking about, all the things she would probably tell him, but right now wasn't, not because she couldn't, but because she already had, loads of times.

"Thank you for loving me," Gillian whispered.

Cal pressed a kiss against her forehead and she tilted her head to capture his lips. She didn't let him go either so Cal held her tighter, feeling heat flood through himself. After ten years, he was probably not aware every day of how much he loved her. Some things got lost in routine and business. But when they slowed down for moments like these he knew, their love was as strong as it had ever been. "Sometimes I can't believe it's been ten years," Cal murmured. "Feels like foreva. Feels like not long enough."

"Mmm," Gillian murmured. She held him tighter. "I know what you mean."

"Good cos it sounded good in my head but when I said it aloud I figa-ed you might be offended."

Gillian laughed quietly. "I know what you meant."

"Are you watchin' this movie?"

"I know what happens in the end," her hands shifted to the top of his jeans and she slipped her fingers down against his pelvis.

Cal flinched, hard, but couldn't escape her without exposing both of them to the people sitting on blankets around them. He was suddenly hyper-aware that they were in public. He liked the idea of that but the reality actually had a lot more to worry about. "Gill," he whispered, trying to keep his voice down. "What are you doin'?"

"Nothing," she responded simply and she did nothing, just left her hands there, didn't touch him or tease and eventually he trusted her and relaxed. "My hands were cold."

"Does that mean I can warm my hands in your pants?" Cal teased.

"No," Gillian crowed at him in a whisper, sounding like Owen. But she kept her hands where they were and they continued to hug closely. Even when it got so hot under the blanket Cal broke out in a sweat, he didn't dare move. He suspected Gillian had gone back to watching the end of the film. The guy got the girl and they had their happily ever after. There was a smatter of applause as the end credits started to roll and the noise of people packing up to leave.

"Do you want to go home?" Cal murmured as they continued to lie there for a moment longer.

"Not yet."

"People might suspect we're doin' somthin' naughty."

Gillian shivered. "What time is it?"

"After ten."

"Hmm," Gillian hummed. Her head came back to look up at him. "Then I suppose we should go."

"We can finish this in the comfort of our own bed."

"Sounds good."

Cal shifted back and Gillian rolled away and they got up from the cold ground stiffly. Cal was right though, they had a baby sitter to get back to. The boys were in their beds asleep and Gillian went up to check on them while Cal walked Cathy back to her home down the block. When he got back Gillian was already in bed, lying on her side, the covers up to her ears, but she was awake. Cal brushed his teeth quickly and used the bathroom and then stripped off before crawling in to bed next to his wife.

Gillian snuggled closer against him, warm in juxtaposition to the cool sheets. "You smell sexy." She was sleepy.

Cal chuckled. "Thank you."

She hummed pleased. "I had a really great time tonight."

"I'm glad. I wanted it to be somethin' different."

"It was and it was great. I would have been happy doing anything with you."

"That sounded promisin'," Cal teased.

Gillian gave a little laugh.

"Next time I'll plan somethin' naughty."

Gillian gave a little shiver against him. "Ok," she whispered.


	46. Chapter 46

Cal answered the door. His daughter smiled at him. "Hi Dad."

"Darlin'," Cal embraced her. "Long time no see. How come you don't come to visit?"

"We've been busy, sorry," she apologised and let him go, moving into the house so her husband could follow her in.

"Otha half," Cal extended a hand.

"How's it?" Ajay asked.

"Owen threw his drink at me so I have to whip upstairs to change," Cal shut the front door.

"Ew Dad," Emily looked at the mess in his lap.

"It's milk," Cal told her dryly. "Won't be a minute. Gill's cleanin' up so..." Cal gestured they should go through. He raced upstairs and went for his drawers. Now that Owen had ruined his trousers he was going to have to resort to jeans. Because he'd been so cryptic about their date on Friday, Gillian refused to tell him much about their date this afternoon. Pay back was a bitch, she reminded him and Cal instantly feigned that he didn't care what she had planned. Their movie night had been pretty special.

When Cal got downstairs again Lewis was talking to Ajay about school and Emily and Gillian were talking about a woman Emily worked with, Amy, who had been having a lot of problems with a domineering boyfriend or something. Gillian had told Cal about it but he didn't really feel the need to know a stranger's personal issues and so he half listened out of politeness for the fact that his wife was talking to him. Owen was standing on his chair, trying to get Gillian to pick him up. He was four now and getting too big for that kind of thing. He was more solid than Lewis had been at that age, despite being born premature. He gave a disgruntled shout when it was clear his mother was not paying attention to him.

Cal approached and Gillian looked over at him. She smiled. "Ready?" She had warned him that even though they were heading out in the afternoon her plans would spill into the evening, so Cal was in a jersey in preparation for the cooler evening. He was going to take a jacket too, just in case. It was May and the nights still carried a chill. Cal nodded he was ready to go. He thanked Emily again for babysitting. Gillian promised she would text when they were going to head home.

"Oh please," Emily waved her hand. "Take your time. You hardly ever get out."

Which was true.

Cal put his arm around her shoulder. "Thanks luv."

"Just think of all the babysitting I can cash in on when I have kids."

Cal raised his eyes to Gillian who gave him a little pouting smile. He raised an eyebrow; did she know something he didn't? But she didn't answer. She turned to hug Owen.

"When you be home? He asked, standing on his tip toes to put his arms around his mother's shoulders even though she had bent to his level.

"Later," she told him pulling away again.

"Is that ages?"

"Yes, ages away."

Owen looked a little alarmed.

"You'll be asleep," Gillian went on. "So you'll have to be really helpful for Emily. Can you do that?"

Owen looked like he might refuse. Sometimes he had until they'd made a big deal out of 'poor Emily' and he'd cave. "You might have to help me make cookies," Emily jumped in. Cal wandered off to say goodbye to Lewis.

"All right," Owen reluctantly agreed.

There was a time when goodbyes were prolonged. Gillian was just as bad as the boys about not wanting to leave but today, she did very well. She said goodbye and they headed out the door and all in all it was over relatively quickly. Thank god, because Cal got bored sometimes waiting for her.

Cal turned to his wife as she pulled away from the house. "So, where are we headed?"

"Guess."

"Um. Sailin'," Cal grinned.

Gillian shot him an unimpressed expression.

"A helicopta ride. Horse back ridin'. Shakespeare."

Gillian laughed, looked over at him again.

"Stop me if I'm warm."

"Ok," Gillian was silence for a moment and then Cal said he'd keep going. "Good idea," Gillian agreed dryly.

"You look nice," Cal changed tact.

"Thank you," she smiled, shot him a warm expression. Cal wondered if he should drive. She kept wanting to look at him. "So do you."

"Thanks."

"You smell a bit like dairy though."

Cal smirked and looked out the window. It was a nice afternoon but the wind was cold. He was set on the idea they were doing some outside activity, because that would be something different for them. "Paint ballin'."

"I wouldn't be wearing this if I was going to let you pelt me with paint."

"Good point," Cal agreed. "I like how you said I was gonna pelt you with paint, not the otha way around."

Gillian kept her eyes on the road. "Which one of us has firearms training?"

"Right," Cal agreed and he was a little shocked to find she had just reminded him. He wondered if he still knew how to fire a gun. Maybe he should head to a firing range to double check. Surely his license would have expired by now? It had been years... "Is Em talkin' about havin' babies?"

"That was a random subject change."

"You guys get togetha and pass these knowin' looks back and forth."

"_We_ also do that," Gillian pointed out. "But that doesn't mean we're having a baby."

"God I hope not," Cal muttered.

"Hey," Gillian protested.

"You know what I mean," Cal shot back. "You can't tell me you'd want to have anotha baby at this point?"

"No," Gillian quickly agreed. "But a little grand-baby?" She turned to him with an expression Cal hadn't seen in a while: gooey. "That would be nice don't you think?"

"Nope," Cal folded his arms over his chest defiantly. "I'm still too young and our kids are still too young."

"Owen's the age Lewis was when he was born."

"Exactly. They'll be like brutha's. It's weird Gill. It's _weird_."

"If Emily talks to me about having children I will give you a heads up," Gillian promised.

"Thank you," Cal grumped.

She didn't answer, just focussed on the intersection for a second and Cal kept quiet so she could concentrate. "I think it would be nice," she finally added softly. "By the time Lewis and Owen ever have kids I'll be too old to enjoy it."

"Hey come on," Cal moved his hand to her arm. She dropped it from the wheel and he let his fingers slide down to snag hers. "You're not old."

"I'll be sixty-nine when Owen turns twenty, Cal."

'_Jesus_,' Cal thought. '_Best to knock this on the head_.' He didn't even want to work out how old he was going to be at the boys' milestones.

"Parachutin'," he threw out.

Gillian looked over at him briefly, her face a frown of confusion.

"Is it an extreme sport?"

"No," she answered shortly.

"Is it a sport?"

"No."

"What the hell else do you do outside?"

Gillian didn't answer him.

"Unless you're takin' me somewhere so we can have sex in a public place!" Cal purposefully let his voice go high in excitement. He wanted to see a smile back on her face.

"First of all," she started sternly. "We've already done that. I thought it was crossed off your bucket list. And secondly. We practically did that on Friday."

Cal laughed and Gillian smiled a little. She glanced over at him and smirked and Cal laughed again. That was better. "All right, so it's outdoors and in public. And it's not some extreme sport or sport of any kind. So I figa it doesn't require any physical activity, which is a little disappointin', I might add." Gillian's smile got deeper as she tried to hide it. "So that leaves..." He suddenly thought of the ice-sculpting they had gone to years and years ago. "Pottery in the park."

"Nope."

"Paintin' in the park."

"Nope."

"Am I close?"

"Yes."

"Oooh!" Cal enthused, sounding like Lewis. "All right. It's in a park?"

"Yep."

"Is it some form of art?"

Gillian thought for a moment. "Yes." But she sounded hesitant. So it must be an art form, that wasn't art art... but something artistic... like...

"Sculpture?"

"No."

"Magic!"

"No," she laughed.

"Music?"

"Damnit."

"Ha!" Cal raised his hand from hers in triumph. "Music. I like music."

"I know."

"Karaoke?"

"Nope."

"Um..." Cal thought. "Opera."

"God no," Gillian shivered and Cal watched amused. How was it he didn't know these things about her? How long had they been married? Unless he did know once upon a time and had forgotten after his brain injury. Not everything had come back. Little things were still lost in the recesses. "Give up?" Gillian prompted.

"Uh yeah," Cal backed down. Gillian looked over at him again but he looked away, outside the window. He didn't like to be reminded. Not one bit. It was bad enough when he went to wash his hair and discovered that scar. If he managed to forget about it, that was a victory. The reminders were rude and unwelcome. It wasn't just the injury, but everything that had also gone with it.

They drove for ages, all the way out to Wheaton and Cal clicked suddenly. "The Wheaton festival?"

Gillian cut the engine and turned to him. "Yeah well. I figured. They have the jazz band playing in an hour and we could walk around and try some of the food."

Cal gave her a smile. "I like jazz."

"I know."

He leaned towards her and she met him. He gave her a warm kiss on the mouth and she smiled beneath his lips. "I did good?" She asked.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Mostly cos I'm glad for the excuse to get away from our kids for a few hours."

"I'll pretend you didn't say that shall I?"

"All right," Cal agreed amiably.

They got out of the car and Gillian headed towards him quickly to take his hand. She linked their fingers together; a strong bond. The morning had been about mother's day. The boys had helped Cal make breakfast in bed and they gave her the cards they had made. This afternoon though was about their ten year wedding anniversary, seeing as it was actually today. This was date number two: Gillian's pick for Cal; the Wheaton festival.

"Actually," Gillian spoke again as they entered. "There is karaoke this year. They brought it back."

"All right!" Cal enthused, pulling her closer against him so they could move around a parent/stroller pair.

"But first, let's wander around."

"All right," Cal agreed. "What time's the jazz?"

"In an hour," she reminded him.

"Lead on then."

They started to walk around the stalls, checking out the food, sampling something when it took their fancy. The festival was popular and there were a lot of children. Cal might have suggested bringing the boys next year but to be honest, this wasn't really their thing. Lewis was getting old enough to know when something was not cool and most of the activities directed at children were directed at younger children; children Owen's age.

Gillian suggested they come back after the jazz band had finished playing. Then they would have more time to wander around. She pulled Cal along to find a seat on the grass and they sat and listened and talked. School would finish up in the next few months and they hatched out a few plans to keep the boys entertained over the summer break. They talked about a family holiday they had still not managed since Cal had had his accident. Gillian figured they could go camping but they couldn't decide where. She thought Owen might be just a little too young for a road trip, flights anywhere for the four of them were going to be expensive... and then there was the fact that Gillian didn't want to go too far out of town just in case; Dana had not been doing entirely well after the death of David last year.

Then they leaned back and listened and watched the clouds go by. Cal didn't really hear anyone else around them, even though he knew they weren't alone, and he realised, even after all this time, his world still boiled down to Gillian.

Over an hour later the jazz was replaced by funk and Gillian noted she was hungry. So they headed back to the food stalls, which were different local restaurants offering samples of their menus. Cal found a chilli con carne, made with chicken mince, not beef; it was spicey enough for him to thoroughly enjoy. Gillian complained he wouldn't be able to even feel his tongue anymore so he stuck it in her mouth to see if that were true.

"Well?" Gillian asked him, her cheeks a little red, her eyes bright.

"I can feel," Cal told her seriously. "But I couldn't taste a thing."

Gillian gave him a shove and an eye roll. The festival was starting to close down and soon they would have to get out. "I suppose we should head home," Gillian mused. Cal slipped a hand into her back pocket as they walked along.

"Em did say to take our time."

"Hm," Gillian mused. "Ice cream?"

"Sounds good."

"Or," she mused as they reached her car and she remote unlocked the doors. "We could go somewhere and have sex."

Cal opened the door into his hip and winced with surprise. He got in the car quickly and slammed the door. "Sorry? Did you just suggest we go somewhere and have sex?"

"I did," Gillian gave him a serious suggestion.

"Uh, uh," Cal thought rapidly. "Motel?"

"Hm," Gillian shrugged unimpressed. "Hotel?"

"Expensive," Cal pointed out. "There's the entire back seat."

"Are you kidding me?" Gillian turned to look in the back. A car seat, an assortment of toys, used juice boxes. Her car was a mess.

"Oh," Cal followed her gaze. "Maybe not."

"You know, it's Sunday. There's no one at the Group."

Cal was shocked again. "You mean the Lightman Group?"

"Do you know another group?"

"Uh," Cal started.

Gillian leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss. "It's mother's day too you know. Double celebration. You always wanted to have sex in the office."

"Which we've done," Cal murmured back. In his office _and_ in the men's bathrooms. "Not that I'm complainin'." He should shut up. Where was she going to suggest next? The kitchen? The cube? Eli's desk.

"Well there's always _my_ office."

Cal bumped his head against hers as he moved forward rapidly to nip at her bottom lip. "Was that serious?" He growled.

"It was," Gillian whispered.

Cal kissed her hard. "All right then, let's go, before I insist doin' it right here."

**PJ**

ClearBear: heaps to go. Heaps. Thank you so much for reviewing! Wanna a chup bro? Sweat as ;)


	47. Chapter 47

Cal swung by Georgetown Day School to pick up Lewis first. His school day finished forty minutes earlier than his younger brother's, which was plenty of time for them to head across the border to Maryland and pick up Owen from Concord Hill School afterwards. Gillian had established the meeting place for both boys seeing as she usually did the school run in the afternoons so Cal made sure he was there before the bell went and the children started pulling out. The high school went until three but the middle school were out earlier and Cal searched the faces for his son. At ten, Lewis had shot up early, so he was a little bit taller than his peers. He still couldn't pick him out of the crowd though, even when he ran right up to Cal and stood there in front of him.

"Oh hi," Cal greeted, surprised.

"Hi Dad," Lewis raised his hand to his forehead. Cal put a hand on the boys shoulder to start them heading down the block to where he had parked. Then they would head to get Owen. As they walked along boys and girls rushed past, squeezing the ten-year-old's other shoulder or arm to wave goodbye. Lewis grinned and waved and Cal watched him feeling proud and kind of amazed; it wasn't often he got to see his son in an environment that wasn't home.

They reached the car and got in. Lewis still had to sit in the back but now that he was taller, even though he was close to the required age, but he didn't need a booster seat anymore. Cal waited for him to buckle up before pulling away from the curb. They headed north for Maryland. Cal was on school duty because Gillian was working late. Cal didn't mind it because he got to spend time with the boys and make dinner for her, and skip out on his work early.

"Dad?"

"Yeah buddy?" Cal turns his head a little and raised his voice so Lewis could hear him over the road noise. Lewis sat behind the passenger's seat so he could still see his father and Cal could throw out the occasional sign if it was possible.

"What's a vasectomy?"

Cal just about slammed the breaks on and the traffic in front of him wasn't even stopping. "Um, what? What did you say?"

"What's a vasectomy?" Lewis repeated, raising his voice a little.

"Uh um, why, who do you?" Cal stumbled. "How come you're askin' about that?"

"My friend said his Dad just got a vasectomy and he's walking around holding his balls," Lewis giggled.

"Right," Cal muttered to himself. He checked his mirrors to change lanes. Once he was finished with the manoeuvre he explained. "A vasectomy is when um, when the tube that the sperm comes out of the testes gets cut so that sperm can't come out anymore." Cal felt the need to drop a hand over his own groin to protect his own balls. Thank god he really didn't have to worry about that with his wife anymore. Firstly, she was no longer even remotely fertile, not even an 'oopsie' was possible right now; they'd already had one and his name was Owen. And secondly, well no, in the grand scheme of things they were a lot older than all the other parents with children in Lewis's class so they didn't even have to decide if they were going to have to have more children at this point or not, the decision had been made for them.

"How do they do that? With a big knife? Do they just cut your balls off?" Lewis laughed again.

Cal chuckled. "No buddy they do it with lase-a's. They make tiny incisions and cut the tube with a lase-a and they don't even have to cut anyone open."

"But why Dad? Why would a man want to do that?"

It sounded like he was wincing but Cal couldn't be sure. He adjusted his rear-view mirror to see his son's face. He was showing disgust. "It's so he can't have babies anymore."

"Oh." Lewis met his eye. "Do all the sperm just die?"

Cal stopped at a light, watching a woman with a beagle on a lead heading across the pedestrian walk in front of him. "No. They don't die off." Well some of them did. But he knew what Lewis meant. He meant, they all die in one big spontaneous holocaust. Die was turning a hand over so the palm started out facing the ground, then rolled over to face upwards. "They just can't get out."

"So then you just make more and more and more and then kaplech!" He made the sound of an explosion. "Your balls just explode?" He cracked up again.

Cal laughed and eased off the brake to move forward again. "No. They die and get absorbed into your body," he made a one handed gesture like he was water being soaked up into a sponge; his hand open down by his side, then bringing it rapidly up to his chest and forming it into a fist. "The sperm does," Cal thought he should clarify.

"Ew."

'_Yeah_,' Cal though, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

"Dad is that how come you and Mum didn't have more babies?"

"No," Cal answered quickly. "There are otha ways to not have babies."

"What are they?"

Apparently it was time for round two of 'how babies are made', this time, with all the graphic details about contraception and infertility.


	48. Chapter 48

"Get in the car!" Cal hollered up the stairs. "Otha wise maybe we should just not botha goin'!"  
>There was a noise of protest and the sudden thump of either a door being slammed or someone falling to the floor. Cal turned to his wife. "Did that sound like some sort of grievous injury?"<p>

"I guess we'll find out in a moment," Gillian mused, packing away the last of the breakfast condiments. She started to wipe down the bench. "I assume one of them will come down to let us know the other is bleeding from the head."

Cal chuckled. "You're terrible." Gillian tried to hide a grin. "And what are you gonna get up to while we're out?" He approached the bench and leaned against it.

"I'm not telling you," Gillian responded mysteriously with a smile. Cal grinned and then there was thudding on the stairs and ten-year-old Lewis came down followed by five-year-old Owen.

"We're ready!" Lewis announced.

Cal turned to them and gripped an imaginary steering wheel. "Get in the car."

"Dad, are we gonna be late?" Owen moved a flat hand from by his hip, backwards as if he were shoving something behind him. He looked concerned.

"Not if you get in the car," Cal reiterated sternly.  
>"Let's go Wen," Lewis took Owen's elbow and tugged to turn him around.<p>

"Wait. Have you got hats?" Cal lifted the day bag from the bench that had his hat, sun block and the camera in. He gave it to Lewis.

"Yes Dad!" Owen answered, holding his own up.

"Have fun," Gillian sing-singed at her husband as the boys disappeared from the room.

"I've got my phone on me."

"Aw that's good."

Cal smiled. "Don't gloat too much. It'll be my turn soon."

Gillian pouted. "You should leave or you'll be late."

"All right," Cal grabbed her to press his lips against hers firmly and he could feel her laugh against him. She pushed away with her hands on his chest. "See you late-a then."

"Let me know when you're heading back and I'll start dinner."

"Or we could just pick somethin' up?" Cal suggested, eyebrows raised.

"That's a better plan," Gillian agreed. She gave him a little wave. "Bye."

"Geeze, anyone would think you're tryin' to get rid of me."

"You think?"

**PJ**

They weren't allowed to park on the base, and instead had to get a free shuttle bus from a nearby field. Cal kept a firm grip on Owen's hand; the kid had a tendency to wander off, distracted or excited by something else or just not paying attention to where everyone else had gone and there were a lot of people around today. Cal made the kid sit on his knee while they were on the bus, to free up a seat for someone else. He and Lewis stared out the window as they got closer to Andrew's Air Base, exclaiming when they caught a glimpse of something interesting. Even from his height advantage, Cal didn't couldn't see anything, so he had no idea what was so exciting. An elderly man was sitting opposite them, obviously with his grandson and gave Cal a smile. Cal smiled in return thinking in a few years he was going to be sixty and some other guy on the bus was probably going to think he was taking his grandsons to the air base.

Cal wiggled his phone out of his pocket to snap a picture of Lewis, who had his nose plastered to the window, and sent it to Gillian. **WE ARNT EVEN THERE YET **

Once they climbed off the bus they had to endure a quick security check, where Cal's bag was searched, and then they were allowed in. They took a timetable and found a spot out of the stream of people to determine what air displays in particular they wanted to see and when they could fit in getting something to eat and drink and seeing the static displays; the planes that were on the ground. Cal admittedly didn't know much about the various aircraft and air-groups but Lewis had been online to determine which ones were going to be cool, the ones he wanted to see; they were at the open day mostly for his benefit.

It was decided that they were going to spend the morning walking around the static displays, then later at midday they were going to go watch some air displays; the Golden Knights (a parachute jump), the P-51 Mustang, the GEICO Skytypers and Team Oracle (a bi-plane). At fifteen hundred hours the Blue Angels had a sixty minute demonstration. In-between there could be time to wander around and get food. It depended on how long the demo's were. Cal though he might insist though. The boys would only last so long without food and he had not been allowed to bring any onto the base with them; not even snacks.

With a plan they started to move around. Lewis also got to read the map and he quickly orientated them and started to head off. Cal grabbed a fistful of the back of Owen's shirt as they moved through the crowd. It was a beautiful day and Cal made sure sun hats were worn. When the sun came over head and was at its worst, he was going to enforce sun block. Gillian had already warned him not to bring back lobsters. And Cal was the most likely to turn pink.

**PJ**

**I HAV A SURPRISE 4 U WEN U GET HOME**

Cal read the message with interest. There was no photo attached, which of course just made it worse. **IS IT SUMTHIN DIRTY?**

"Dad, they don't fly so low they might hit us?" Owen asked, blue eyes wide as he looked up at his father.

"Of course not," Cal responded. That sounded like something a helpful big brother might share. Lewis was crossed legged beside Cal on the grass, busy reading the pamphlet they were given as they came in the gate. It let them know about the different planes that were going to take part in the air show. Cal leaned back on his hands and Owen was up on his knees, leaning on one of his father's knees as they talked.

"What if they crash in the ground?"

"They're not gonna crash in the ground," Cal told him. Although, to be fair, he didn't know if that was true.

"Can I sit with you?" Owen asked.

"Course buddy," Cal suggested he sit in front of him, between his legs. Owen leaned back against his stomach, using his thighs as arms rests, using his father as a big armchair.

"When do they start?"

"I don't know," Cal responded. He checked his watch. "Soon." He hoped. He was getting tired. They had walked miles, eaten junk and already sat through two sets of aerodynamics. Cal already knew this was the best position for viewing without breaking his neck trying to look up. He could tell Owen was getting tired too. He had started to lag as they walked and he kept asking questions. When he was interested, he would wait to find out himself, when he was tired, he searched for instant answers, as in, asking his father incessantly. Only Lewis still seemed energetic. Cal felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and shifted his weight to fish it out. Owen's head lolled to the side and Cal wondered if he'd gone to sleep. Surely not that quickly?

**DEPENDS HOW U LOOK AT IT**

'_Oh come on!_' Cal groaned to himself. He tapped out a reply:** YOURE KILLIN ME**

"Did you know they fly F-eighteen Hornet's?"

"Yeah I did," Cal replied to Lewis, turning his head to see the ten-year-old. "Navy planes."

"And did you know there six of them?"  
>"I didn't."<p>

"Did you know that they don't have guns on the planes anymore? They took them off."

"Probably so they don't accidentally shoot someone."

Lewis went back to his brochure as Cal's phone vibrated again.

"Dad, are they going to shoot somebody?" Owen asked softly.

"No buddy," Cal reassured him. "There are no guns remember?"

"Oh."

**YOURE RITE. THAT WAS A TEASE. LETS JUST SAY, YOULL LIKE IT**

'_Oh good lord!_'

"They have a C-one thirty Hercules that's from the Marine Corps called 'Fat Albert'," Lewis went on.

**PLEASE JUST TELL ME. IM BEGGIN**

"And it's used to transport their stuff around."

"Dad my eyes hurt."

"Why do your eyes hurt?" Cal asked Owen.

"I don't know."

"The show starts with Fat Albert doing a take off and then he flies by the crowd."

"Are you tired buddy?" Cal asked, shifting forward to see Owen. His eyes were closed. He wasn't rubbing at them, nor did he seem like he was in discomfort, so he must not have something caught in there.

"Then Fat Albert does a flat pass."

"Lew, we don't need a run down. We can see what he's gonna do when he gets out here. Read it inside your head ok?"

"Ok."

"How much longer are we gonna be?"

"It'll be a few hours until we can get home," Cal responded to his youngest. "And then we can have dinna yeah? Are you hungry?"

Owen nodded his head against his father's stomach. Cal got his phone out again. **CHANGE OF PLANS. CAN U GET DINNA? O FADIN FAST. DONT WANNA STOP OFF. GONNA B A BITCH GETTING THRU THE CROWD AS IT IS**

"Dad could I be a Blue Angel when I grow up?" Lewis turned him, blue eyes serious.

"You can certainly give it a go Lew. But you'd have to work hard in school and keep fit and join the Naval Academy and learn to fly. Could take a really long time and lots of hard work. You up for that?"

Lewis considered him for a moment. "It'd be cool."

"Yeah it'd be really cool," Cal gave him a smile. Lewis smiled back and then the announcer got the attention of the crowd.


	49. Chapter 49

Gillian pushed the key for her office door into the lock and twisted it. The catch popped open satisfyingly and she pushed the door further open with a knee. Her grip was refocused on the files in her arm and as she started to feel them slip a little she hurried to her desk. She dropped them with a muffled thud and eased her purse off her shoulder, slinging it to the desktop as well. She went around the small space twisting the blinds open and deciding it was bright enough to not need the lights on. It was winter and the days were getting shorter but at least today, the sun was bright.

Gillian's first appointment was at ten. She had just dropped the boys off at their respective schools and headed back into town to her new office. She was kind of tucked back into a corner but it wasn't a big deal. She didn't care about prestige or building a career at this point in her life, only her reputation as a therapist, which was doing just fine. She worked with a married couple in the practice; Nigel she had gone to university with so long ago but his wife, Tania, Gillian was just getting to know. As far as she could tell, their marriage wasn't doing very well; she could hear them arguing through the wall. It made her think about Cal a lot and how good she had it, how good they had it; once upon a time it had been her and Alec.

Most of Gillian's clients were referrals from a GP or one of the hospitals. Between the three of them they split the patients. Gillian only worked two days a week there, Tuesday and Wednesday. She thought about taking it up to Thursday as well but that would probably require talking Cal in to it. The very first day she was gone Cal text her that morning to tell her he missed her. Not that he was trying to guilt her, he had given his blessing after all... but it was...

Shouting had Gillian hesitating half way across the room. This wasn't the same as Tania and Nigel fighting. This was... panicked and loud and male and that sounded like a gun shot. Heart pounding, Gillian went for her phone and then she went for the door. She could be overreacting. Surely there... no... No one would bring a gun into a therapist's office would they?

'_Of course they freaking would_,' Gillian corrected herself. People here were pissed off and were told things they didn't want to hear and were emotional enough to be considered unstable. She had had someone recommended for committal. She'd had a yelling match of her own with Nigel over some of their policies.

With her heart continuing to pound, Gillian cracked her door open. She could hardly see... She tilted her head to the side and yes, there it was a gun. She turned away, brought her phone up. Her hands were shaking and her throat dry and she had this insane desire to pee herself when she heard, "You! Come out here!"

Male, Gillian noted of the voice, and desperate. The threats were serious. She could hear his throat closing off in anger and she decided she didn't want to make him any more aggravated. If he had come in firing bullets he was going to be pretty prepared to keep on pulling that trigger. Even if he didn't intend to hurt someone, bullets could ricochet. People sometimes felt the need for heroics.

"I'm counting to three!"

She hit '1' and tossed her phone to the couch. She took a split second to gather herself before she reached for the door. It felt like a movie. In fact, she was pretty sure this had been in a movie, or a TV show she had seen. That didn't make her feel better as she walked out into the open.

**PJ**

Cal's phone rang while he was in the lab and he dug it out even as he was pointing out a few facial twitches for Joe to note down. He, Ria and Loker tended to take their own cases with an underling for back up and if they got stuck they would get together to bounce ideas off one another. "Hang on," he told Joe, one of the interns. "Yeah?" On the other end he could hear nothing, just a slight hissing. Cal pulled the phone from his ear and checked the screen. Gill's face was there, smiling at him, the call line was open. "Gill?" He heard something else in the background. Yelling, it sounded like; a guy yelling. Cal got up and headed for the lab door. It was too noisy in there. He could hear better in his office where it was quiet. He ran.

"Gill?" Cal tried again and he listened. He couldn't hear anything now but that didn't matter. It didn't sound like she had accidentally called him from her handbag. He couldn't hear anything. So that was weird. Incredibly weird and that would mean that... something was wrong. He left his phone on the desk top and dialled her work number from the little post-it attached to his computer screen. She had written the number down for him and stuck it there so he could find it and there was a little heart on there too and sometimes she could be so cute he would smile, even in the middle of a shitty day. The phone rang and rang and rang and rang and then the voicemail picked up. Cal hung it up and dialled Fox-Boycott. This number also rang for a while but it _was_ picked up. "It's Gill," Cal started. "Somethin' weird is goin' on."

**PJ**

Gillian sat with her back against the curve of the receptionist's desk. The building was modern, warm woods and lots of light, and it reminded her of the Lightman Group. It was just up the road from where she was now. Lewis had joked she could make tin can walkie talkies and still talk to Dad. Nigel and Tania used to be in a different building further across town. When Gillian had got talking to Nigel again he mentioned they were looking to move somewhere bigger, to expand, and Gillian had expressed interest and here she was now, scared and sitting so still it hurt, because one of Nigel's patients had finally had enough. She was trying to stay out of it. The phone kept ringing which was only agitating Kevin further but Nigel was talking to him calmly, trying to work out something, a negotiation of some sort and Gillian was just trying to keep her head down and stay out of it. She would have got involved, she could see what was triggering anger on Kevin's face, what was triggering sadness; she had worked it out relatively quickly, she would have, but she was a mother and a wife and she was scared. She didn't want to speak up and get hurt because she had people to go home to. She had people relying on her to do the school run in the afternoon.

She would have gotten involved. She would have. But she didn't want to die.

**PJ**

"There's no answer," Aiden said as he hung up the phone.

"Of course there isn't. I've been ringin' for half an hour," Cal grumbled. He knew he should stop but he couldn't help but think maybe someone was going to pick up. The only proof Cal had for something even going on up there was the phone call from Gillian and the fact that all the blinds were closed in the offices up on the fourth floor. Both were rather flimsy evidence but Cal knew his wife and he knew there were routines and why would the blinds be closed in the middle of the day if everything was just fine? His gut told him there was something wrong.

He paced in front of the detective's unmarked police car. The sun had been out earlier in the morning but it seemed it didn't want to stay to play today and the wind was gusty cold. All Cal could think was that the weather was reiterating to him that there was something not right with Gillian, like it was a warning. It was stupid but it also felt ominous. Cal's cell phone battery had finally died so the link between their phones had been severed as well; now he didn't have ears in the building. Not that that had helped much, whatever was happening was too far away from him to pick up sound or anything else. But it had been comforting to know he couldn't hear anything disturbing.

"You need to get in there," Cal directed agitatedly, turning to confront his ally.

"I'll go up. What are the chances of me getting you to stay here?" Fox-Boycott pushed away from where he'd been leaning against the trunk.

"Zero to freakin' nothin'."

"Fine," Aiden almost sighed. "But you stay behind me and don't say a word and don't interfere."

"Fine," Cal glared but raised his hands in a sign of parley. Aiden held his gaze for a moment, to emphasise his instruction and Cal almost looked away first but then the detective strode for the building, calling in to dispatch that he was investigating suspicious activity and Cal follow rapidly behind him.

**PJ**

The knock at the door startled Gillian. Nigel was talking in circles getting nowhere and Kevin, his patient, was just getting more frustrated. As far as anyone could make out, Kevin didn't really know what he was doing there or what he wanted out of it; he was angry, he had a gun and probably what he wanted, but didn't really know, was to make someone else suffer more than him. Gillian didn't think it was wise to intervene and point that out either. She wondered what Cal would do if he were sitting here. Probably jump the guy and get himself shot in the process, but save the lives of the people he was with all the same. Gillian wasn't as brave as that. She didn't want to get hurt and she couldn't see past that for a solution either.  
>The knock at the door startled everyone else in the room too, Kevin, Nigel, Tania, Shelly, their receptionist, and Peter and Cameron, Gillian's and Tania's first appointments. The door wasn't locked and Gillian thought about telling Kevin to go do so, so that no one else would walk in, but honestly, she was starting to believe Kevin was not particularly listening to reason. He was here to hurt someone and was either deciding who, or was working up the nerve to do it. Cal would have told him to lock it. Actually, Cal would have got up and just locked the damn thing himself.<p>

So, if the door wasn't locked why would somebody knock unless they suspected...

'_Cal_,' Gillian thought and she felt a little relief relax the tense muscles of her shoulders. She knew he'd figure it out. And with the blinds being closed in the middle of the day and no one was answering the phone. He had phenomenal instincts and they were rarely wrong. Hopefully, he brought someone with him though. Someone who could actually diffuse the situation. Someone who was allowed to fire a gun.

When there was no answer the door handle started to turn and Kevin grabbed Nigel by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up to his knees, the gun tucked in against his shoulder and neck. Gillian tense up again and Nigel's eyes met hers and she read apologies and fear. She wanted to tell him not to worry, her own personal knight in shining armour was here but Kevin was facing her and he might see some sort of exchange; it could set him over the edge.

"Stop right there!" Kevin called out but the bluster had excited his demeanour now. He was sweating and scared and still incredibly angry. But he was shaking; Gillian could see the gun quivering against her friend's neck. This was a man who was not in control and she had no idea how she was going to let whoever was on the other side of the door know that. Not with the gun so close to Nigel's artery.

The door popped open a crack and stopped. The entire room held their breath. Kevin turned towards the door, the gun drifting away a little; Nigel didn't relax though. Gillian saw Peter and Cameron exchange a glance and she turned to see them more fully. They were sitting beneath the windows, directly behind Kevin, no more than three meters away and they might make it across that distance before he could turn or pull the trigger but it was risky. She glared at them to stop it and shook her head. They looked away from each other a little ashamed and she might have found it amusing that her stern 'mother' glare could deter two grown men as well as her boys, if she didn't feel nauseated that was, then she might have told Cal about it later and they would laugh.

"Who's there!" Kevin called out.

"My name is Aiden."

'_Oh thank god!_'

"I'm going to come in."

"No you stay there!" Kevin tried authoritative as the door pushed open another foot. A hand appeared, open, non-threatening. Did Kevin not find it suspicious that Aiden knew some of what was going on in the room right now?

"I'm just here to help," Aiden went on, sliding his body into the room sideways. The expanse of his chest opened up the door further and Gillian caught a glimpse of light hair before it pulled back again. Not blonde or sandy or even grey; dark brown hair that was losing its colour: Cal. Her heart leapt to her throat.

Aiden appeared through the doorway and stood with his hands raised. Gillian couldn't see the holster where he kept his gun on his hip and maybe he had moved it to his back. It would be harder to draw from there, especially because his jacket would be in the way and she felt a little disappointed. But then she also knew if he'd come in with his gun visible Kevin would probably just shoot him on sight. "So tell me what's going on here," Aiden spoke softly, calmly; his face was stoic.

Kevin moved to stand between Aiden and the far wall, keeping his gun pointed at Nigel the entire time. Nigel sunk back to the carpet and kept still. The room was thick with fear. Aiden caught Gillian's eye and she showed him a quick softening of her features; she was all right and he looked away again without acknowledging. Once he had surveyed the room he was back to Kevin. "What's your name?" Aiden asked.

"Why do you need to know my name?" Kevin queried. "What's it to you? Are you a cop?"

"I'm a detective," Aiden admitted. "There was a robbery one floor down last night. I came up to ask some routine questions but I can see you're a little caught up here."

Kevin stared at him and even Gillian wondered if that was meant to be a joke. "You shouldn't have come in."

Gillian's attention strayed to the door. It was open enough for her to see into the corridor. The door opposite theirs was wide open and empty. They must have evacuated this floor. That made her feel better. She could see a shadow hovering and then she saw him. It was Cal. He had Aiden's radio in his hand and his eyes caught hers suddenly and heat flooded through her, relief and fear and arousal. He raised his eyebrows, bringing up a hand: you how?

Gillian glanced to Kevin but he wasn't looking at her, even if he was faced towards her slightly. She shifted her left hand to her side, so it was on the carpet, formed a fist and bobbed it up and down: yes.

Cal's next question was: where?

Gillian straightened her index finger to point. Cal nodded and stepped back, bringing the radio to his mouth. Gillian figured how this was working. She wondered if she was suddenly going to see the red laser light of a sniper on the roof, sighting on the target from across the road, but now, how could they shoot through the window if they couldn't see?

Cal appeared again and signed: more. Gillian nodded. There were more cops on their way, if they weren't here already. Then he asked: how many?

Gillian extended her fingers and brought her pinky down to rest against the tip of her thumb on the palm of her hand and then held it up a little so Cal could see, while she checked Kevin, to make sure Aiden still had him engaged. She wondered if this was the plan. For her to communicate with Cal silently, because they knew sign language, while Aiden kept Kevin distracted and then Cal could tell the others what was going on and then... what? It was a brilliant plan up to then. But what next?

Gillian waited until Cal was back and then curled her fingers up in a 'wh?' question, then she brought her left hand up to a right angle and dropped it suddenly: now.

Cal raised both hands, his right behind his left, and wiggled his fingers: wait.

Gillian leaned back against the desk and took a deep breath to try and steady her heart and stomach.

**PJ**

Cal was watching his wife who was now either ignoring him, or was exhausted, when the backup special weapons unit arrived. The only warning he got was the sound of a boot on the carpet right behind him. He turned startled and was signalled to remain quiet. Of course he fucking knew to be quiet. What did this wanker think he was doing standing in the fucking corridor like he was afraid even his breath could be heard?

"Ask your wife where the perp is now," the man whispered.

Cal leaned slightly towards the open door again so he was in Gillian's line of sight, and Tania sitting next to her, who was going to freaking give him away if she didn't quit staring in his direction. Cal signed two things rapidly, the first was 'now where he?' and then 'friend too much'. Gillian grasped at Tania's hand with her right, drawing the woman's attention away from him. She looked across the room and her left index finger straightened to point, before turning to Tania to give her a forced smile.

Cal pulled back. "The guy's in the same place," he whispered. "Against the wall here," he pointed to the wall in the corridor to indicate whereabouts in the room the man with the gun was standing.

"Does she know his name?"

"Gillian," Cal ground out evenly. "My wife's name is Gillian." He could only really see the squad leader's eyes. They were brown and they narrowed at him but Cal had never particularly cared about being on someone's good side. Cal turned back to the door. He waved his hand in a high arch to get her attention again and when Gillian turned her head casually once more, her eyes were pinned on his. She dropped them to see his fingers taping over each other and Cal waited while she painfully spelt it out the name with her awkward left hand. "Kevin," Cal finger-spelled back quickly and she nodded her hand: yes.

"It's Kevin," Cal whispered to the squad leader.

"Last name?"

"No," Cal shook his head. Gillian wouldn't know his last name. Even when the psychologists got together to talk about their most difficult cases they never mentioned last names. When Gillian came home and talked, she never mentioned names at all.

"All right," the special situations tactician backed further down the hall again, getting on his radio. Cal realised Aiden's had gone silent. He was out of the loop again.

**PJ**

Cal had been gone a while and Gillian wondered what was going on. He had signed 'S' 'W' 'A' 'T' to her which meant there were at least other cops there now with heavy guns and body armour but she wasn't sure that made her feel any better. Aiden and Kevin had fallen silent; Aiden had talked himself to death and got nowhere and that confirmed for Gillian that Kevin was no longer listening. He seemed increasingly unfocused and distracted and she wondered if Aiden was going to have a go at disarming him. The gun stayed trained on Nigel but it wavered and wandered as Kevin's concentration did. She knew something was going to give and it was going to be soon. And she suspected it would be Kevin; it seemed everyone was waiting on him to make a move. Or maybe that sniper was getting into place.

The room had only been silent for about a minute and then Cal was back. He caught Gillian's eye immediately; she kept looking for him while at the same time worrying she was going to alert Kevin. She hadn't been following his conversation with Aiden closely, but she knew Aiden had identified himself as a detective and surely Kevin could work out if he didn't call in soon, or return to his precinct, someone would come to look for him, drawing more unwanted attention.

Cal made a 'Y' hand and shoved it forward and down a bit. Then he pointed sharply to indicate the ground directly in front of her. _Stay there_. So it was happening now then. Gillian tensed up and gripped at Tania's arm. She turned to Gillian and then armed officers entered the room and a shot was fired. Gillian turned her head away and winced but didn't feel anything. She turned back to see Nigel slumped on the ground, a river of red blooming out across the cream carpet away from him. She crawled over and pulled him on to his back. His shirt was soaked too, by his side and his shirt was ripped. Gillian immediately pressed her hands over the wound; his blood was hot and it oozed up between her fingers.

Very quickly Tania was at her side and then she was aware that Cal was also there. The other police officers checked the rest of the rooms. Cal was trying to talk to her and Nigel was muttering something, Tania was crying and it all became a blur of noises and feelings and an overwhelming desire to stop her friend from bleeding.


	50. Chapter 50

"Let's go Gill," Cal urged, his hand possessively on her elbow, trying to pull her away. As soon as the last officer had gone through the door, Cal was there to find his wife, ignoring instructions to stay put until the situation was under control. The sound of the gun firing had made his balls creep up inside him in fear. He had rounded the corner so quickly he almost fell off balance. Kevin had shot Nigel in the shoulder, who was on the floor bleeding, but someone else had shot him, and he was also on the floor, dead it seemed; Cal must have missed that second gun shot. After Cal orientated himself with the room and where everyone was in it, he found Gillian over Nigel, his crying wife next to her, her hands covered in red, pressed against his shoulder. Cal had approached quickly, knelt down opposite her and met her eye grimly; she showed him grim resolve.

Cal was aware of voices around him, the confirmation of Kevin's death, the clearing of the other rooms in the office space, Nigel talking to his wife, Tania sobbing. Gillian didn't say anything and Cal didn't know what to say to her. Paramedics arrived and Cal intervened to pry her away when she seemed reluctant to get out of the way. He took her down the hall to the bathroom and washed her hands. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to do but he wanted to get her alone. He dried her fingers gently and she finally looked up and met his eye. She had murmured a 'sorry' and started crying and he pulled her against him quickly, relieved that finally, there was some emotion. He rubbed her back and soothed her.

Gillian was talking to Aiden right now. She had talked to Tania briefly before the paramedics had taken Nigel away to the hospital. The bullet had struck the fleshy part of his shoulder, a clean through and through, and with a bit of surgery he would probably be just fine. After he was wheeled away Gillian had talked to the two men who were clients and Cal was forced to hover around her, waiting. She seemed to be either ignoring him, or was too intensely distracted by taking charge of the situation. Finally, Cal decided to just take control. He should take her home. She was in shock, even if it was mild. He could tell by looking at her. She didn't need to be here anymore.

Gillian turned to Cal and he gave her hand a tug to encourage. "Come on," he coaxed. "We need to go and get the boys." Perfect excuse.

"I can't," she started. "I have to talk, make a statement." She checked her watch, which had smears of red on it. "But you should go," and now she seemed concerned, as if she had forgotten all about their children.

"Come with me. You can talk to these lot late-a." Cal looked over at Aiden and Aiden met his eye. They both looked to Gillian who seemed agitated again, like there was something important she had to do and didn't want to delay it any longer.

"How about I drop Gillian off at home after she's made her statement?" The detective suggested.

Cal wanted to drop kick him.

"There see?" Gillian turned to Cal. "It's fine."

"Fine," Cal grumped. He could see the blood on her clothes still and it had dried and crusted and it was not fine, it was _not_ bloody fine. But he had to go and pick up their sons from school and he was going to be late as it was. He didn't want to go and yet staying was not achieving anything either. He was a spare part. All he could hope for was that Aiden was going to look after her and that she would be home soon. "Don't wear that," Cal turned back to her. He pulled off his sports coat and gave it Gillian to hold. Then he took off his shirt by undoing a few buttons at the top and tugging it over his head. He took off his undershirt and gave that to his wife too, a feeling of de ja vu. He put the shirt back on, reminded her to change, didn't point out that if she came home with her bloodied shirt on the boys would be asking questions.

"All right," Cal sighed, dressed again, ignoring Fox-Boycott, the traitor. "I'll see you soon then yeah?"

Gillian nodded and Cal noted the arousal in her eyes. He was confused and he figured she must be too. When he went to leave she stopped him and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you," she murmured against his ear, her fingers petting the hair at the back of his head. She gave him a quick kiss and moved away again and Cal was dismissed.

**PJ**

When Gillian got home, wearing Cal's clothes, he was there, waiting for her, by the door, cornering her before the boys could get to her and while it felt a little claustrophobic, she was also grateful. She needed longer to get herself together again. Going over her statement for the police had been tough, she relived it and the guilt was mounting.

"You all right?" Cal's eyes were soft and concerned. His hands reached for her and she slipped one of hers into both of his to stop him from getting closer than that.

Gillian nodded. "I'm going to go up and have a shower."

"Yeah, dinna's nearly ready."

"Ok," Gillian nodded, slipping her hand free as she walked around him.

The boys were sat up at the table when she came back down, in pyjamas this time, and were already eating. Cal was sitting with them but his place was empty. He looked over at her as soon as she appeared and she watched as he kind of jerked to stand but stopped himself; he wanted to smother and he was trying not to. Gillian sat at the head of the table and smiled and asked her sons how their days were; she listened as they told her about what they had got up to at school that day. She sat with six year old Owen and did his reading homework, helping him sound out the words he didn't know yet. Eleven year old Lewis helped Cal with the dishes and then the boys were allowed to watch a bit of TV before bed. And Gillian could feel Cal watching her, feel the need inside him to grill her on what had happened, but also his self-restraint, so they didn't alarm their children. Once they were in bed though, and they were alone, she knew she would have to talk; she just really didn't know what to say.

**PJ**

Cal tucked Owen in and leaned down to give him a kiss good night. He bade him good dreams and told him he would see him in the morning. He ducked out from beneath the overhanging bunk, careful not to hit his head again. "Good night Dad," Owen called.

"Night buddy," Cal echoed. He had already hugged and kissed Lewis so he headed for the door and pulled it almost closed. Lewis had his back to the room, so the light wouldn't bother him, while Owen faced it, so the light would show him there was nothing scary about to sneak up on him.

Cal padded down the hallway to the bedroom he shared with Gillian. She had turned on lamps and closed the curtains and was in the bathroom brushing her teeth; Cal could hear the water running. He kicked off his shoes by the end of the bed, and peeled off his socks. He had stayed out of it but now he wanted to talk. He undid his work trousers. He'd had to call into the office on his way to get the boys seeing as his phone battery was dead. It wasn't completely unusual for him to disappear for the day without a lot of notice and his excuse was merely that he'd been caught up and his phone had died. A lie only by omission. Cal was pulling his shirt off when Gillian came back into the room.

She crossed to where he stood and pulled his mouth into a fierce kiss. Heat shocked through Cal instantly and he found himself grabbing for her as she pressed her body against his. She tasted like mint and her fingers gripped him hard on either side of his hips. A little voice started to say this wasn't right, that they should talk first, and he realised they had been there before; they had made this mistake before. He ripped Gillian away from him and her eyes were dark and her mouth swollen and she was panting at him. Fuck she made this hard. Pun intended.

"We can't," Cal huffed. Gillian reached for him again and he shoved at her hands, then gripped her wrists and pulled her tightly against him in an embrace. She started to protest and he shushed her harshly. "We can't do this again Gill. We have to talk."

She muttered something against his shoulder that sounded like 'I can't'.

"You have to," Cal insisted. "This is it Gill. This is that moment."

She went very still and then she nodded. "Ok," she turned her head to murmur against his neck. "But I..." It sounded like she choked on the word.

"I'll go first," Cal volunteered. Gillian was so very good at talking about things, but not when it came to her things. In that way, she was no different from him or anyone else. but she had promised him and this was the next thing they had to work on and here was the opportunity to do it. He quickly went on. "I was scared shitless Gill. Scared out of my mind. The only relief I got, the only thing that stopped me rushin' the room was the thought that I might make it worse for you if I..." _Did something stupid._

Gillian's arms shifted so they were draped around his waist.

"But seein' you there and bein' able to talk to you. That helped _a lot_."

He felt Gillian go limp against him and he walked her backwards to the bed, sitting her down on the mattress. "I'm so glad you're all right," he smoothed back her hair from her face so he could see her, uninhibited, because she was his and he'd have it no other way.

She lifted her eyes to meet his. "I thought you'd be saying 'I told you so' right about now."

"No," Cal murmured and shook his head. "No 'I told you so's'. He wasn't your patient. It's not your fault he brought a gun to the office." He felt his throat close up a little at the thought... just the thought of what could have happened. But it wasn't like this was an everyday occurrence. Neither Gillian or Cal could have predicted it. And it would do no one any good to wrap up in cotton wool and hide.

"I could have stopped it," Gillian whispered.

"No you couldn't darlin'. You couldn't have."

"I could see, on his face, what he was agitated about, I could have said something, tried to talk to him."

"No," Cal insisted. "I heard him too. He was beyond reasonin' with. You couldn't have said anythin' he would have listened to."

"I was so scared, Cal," Gillian tried again. "I didn't want to get hurt. I didn't want to leave the boys. I kept thinking about them. I didn't want to die."

Cal shifted from sitting beside her to kneeling in front of her, on the floor, so she would look at him. "It's ok Gill. I'm glad you thought of them. You handled it betta than me. I would have wanted to jump in there and probably would have got myself shot."

"Then I'm glad you didn't," Gillian attempted a smile.

Cal tried one too but it felt a little strange. "I'm startin' to feel invincible Gill."

"What?" She choked out.

"No matta what happens, nothin' will keep us apart."

"That's," she started to dismiss and then she thought about it, Cal could see her mind swirl.

"Don't you even _think_ of testing that theory," she warned.

"Promise," Cal uttered. He shifted up and she met him and they hugged fiercely. Cal squeezed her until he could feel her bones against his chest and even then it didn't feel close enough. He shifted to kiss her again and felt the need to cry. It was the relief he knew, but he still fought it back.

Gillian looked up at him, her eyes vulnerable. "I love you." Which was really: thank you for not telling me off, for not insisting I quit this job, for being there for me, for forcing me to talk, for looking after our sons.

"I love you too darlin'," Cal agreed. He kissed her forehead. "Bed ok?"

"Ok," Gillian agreed. She scooted away as Cal went to brush his teeth. When he was settled in bed they embraced again, taking warmth from each other against the cool sheets.

"You rememba when I lost my memory?"

"Yes," Gillian answered meekly.

"I always wonda-ed why, why I cut you out."

"Cal," Gillian tried.

"No," Cal cut her off. "I think I know why. Or at least now I feel like I have a theory as to 'why'. I've been thinkin' about it for a while. I think I was afraid of losin' you. Don't ask me how or why I would but... I think on some level I was scared I would be without you."

"So you forgot me before that could happen?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Pre-emptive strike," Gillian murmured.

"Yeah."

It wasn't a flawless explanation but at least it was one. It wasn't like Cal could get Rockwell or even Wu to back it up, but it felt right in his heart. And his instincts rarely let him down.

"Don't ever do that again. I'm not going anywhere."

Cal held her tighter and the emotion he was trying to ignore washed up over him again. As he pressed a final kiss to her forehead a tear snuck beneath his eyelids and trailed down the edge of his eye till it hit the pillow.


	51. Chapter 51

Cal tapped at Gillian's office door and pushed it open. She looked up and gave him an expectant smile. "Got somthin' for you," Cal told her, striding across the room quickly to her desk. He had waited a little impatiently for her to arrive this morning before he could deliver his little trinket.

"Oh?" Gillian raised her eyebrows, amiable, unsuspecting. She sat at her desk and pulled the folder on top of it closer towards her, preparing to make a start.

Cal held out his hand, "Here." And Gillian opened her hands to take whatever it was that he was about to drop. Small and white. Cal grinned, pleased with himself, as Gillian picked it up from her palm and looked up at him, her cheeks actually red and her face a little mortified; so much more amusing!

"My button?" She whispered, her eyes darting to the door.

"Said I'd find them all," Cal grinned to himself, rocking back and forth from heel to toe, enjoying her embarrassment. He wondered if she was thinking about how she'd lost the button in the first place, yesterday evening, on the coffee table. It had actually been relatively easy. To find all the buttons he'd popped off her shirt. They were either in the couch or on the floor. But one had eluded Cal at the time and even when Gillian had looked for it she couldn't find it.

Gillian curled her hand around the white plastic and reached for her purse. "Where did you find it?" She asked in a low voice.

"Was in the cuff of my trousers," Cal responded watching her put the button into a small side compartment of her handbag. She was serious about wanting all the buttons back, but he doubted she would actually sew them back on her shirt. "That's all of them now right?"

She nodded, her eyes sliding to the door again. "Ok, you had your laugh, now go away."

Cal chuckled and turned on his heel to face his body away towards the door but his head was still to the side to face her. "Can I come ova tonight?"

"Maybe," Gillian muttered her head down, focussing back on her work.

That was a yes.

**PJ**

Cal shut off the bathroom light and found Gillian already in bed. Her knees were propped up and her body hunched over them. He watched her as he walked around the bed, wondering what she was doing. And then he could see she had material in her hands and a needle and thread. She was sewing. How cute!

How very domesticated.

"What are you doin'?" Cal asked as he slid into bed.

She waited for him to settle before attempting to thread the needle through the button hole again. "Sewing the buttons back on my shirt."

Cal smirked. So she had been serious then. "Thought you would have just ditched it."

"Well now that I have all the buttons back... This is my favourite shirt," Gillian informed him with a breezy smile. She focussed again and Cal could see that it was, indeed, the last button to go back, the one by her chest. He grinned to himself, remembering last night, remembering popping the buttons off her shirt in the first place. He was surprised there wasn't more damaged to be honest. He hadn't been careful. Cal leaned over and started to kiss her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Tempting you."

"Mmm," she hummed. "Wait. Just a second. I've almost finished."

"So this doesn't count as twenty-four hours apart? Or was it twenty-four hours no sex?"

"Well seeing as you're _here _anyway, maybe we should just go for no sex," she turned to face him. He pressed a kiss against her lips and then sighed.

"Yeah maybe. My back is killin' me afta yestaday."

Gillian giggled, actually giggled. Cal shot her a glare as he eased away again. "That's not helpin'." She grinned at him, her eyes bright and he found himself returning it.

"Did I show you the bruises on my back?"

"What bruises?" Cal was surprised and concerned.

Gillian let her knees drop to the mattress and turned her shoulders towards him. Cal lifted her shirt up, showing the smooth expanse of her back and the little lochness ridges that was her spine. On the edges of her shoulders, at the bottom of the curve of her shoulder blade, were dark blue smudges of bruising, where her shoulders had pressed against the solid surface of her coffee table. "Geeze," Cal brushed a hand over her back and she shivered, turning away again. "Sorry."

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "Was worth it."

Cal lay back against his pillow, letting the scent of her on the sheets wash over him in a comforting way. Just a few months and already he came to crave this. "What will we do with our evenin' then?"

"Hmm," Gillian mused turning back to her sewing. She threaded the needle through the hole and pulled it taught, then formed a loop and tucked the needle beneath it to tie off the knot. "How are you at cards?"


	52. Chapter 52

Cal settled next to his wife in their bed. She had her latest book in her hands and her glasses on her nose, preparing to read. She pulled it open and a bookmark fell out. "Hey!" Cal protested, recognising it. "That was markin' my place."

"I've barely even started this yet," Gillian turned her head to him, waving the book. "Were you sneaking?"

"No," Cal denied poorly. "You just read so slow! It'll take you foreva to get through it." So he could read it next.

Gillian narrowed her eyes at him. "I do _not_ read slow. I'm busy. I hardly ever _get_ to read."

"Yeah well I couldn't wait."

Her eyes went darker. "It's my book. You'll wait your damn turn."

Cal pulled the book out of her grasp easily, leaning down on his left elbow to flip open the pages to where she was. "Look, I'm barely two pages ahead of where you are. I was merely catchin' up."

Gillian sat up slightly and attempted to snatch the book back but Cal held on to it without effort. "Give it back."

"Share."

"I'm not going to read two pages and then give it back to you to read two pages."

Cal grinned slightly. "Not quite what I had in mind." He tugged the book suddenly towards him and it unsettled her balance because she refused to let go. He leaned back at the same time so when she fell against his chest he was in the process of lying back against the mattress. He propped the book up against his chest with his right hand; his left, he wrapped around her, so his hand was resting against her waist and she was snug against him. "This is much betta. Can you see?"

"Yes," Gillian grumbled.

"See? Carin' is sharin'," Cal told her, smoothing his hand up and down her waist, feeling the material of her pyjama top bunch. He worked his fingers awkwardly to find her smoother skin. Most of the time, they went to bed when their sons did. It was one of the only times they got to be alone, they didn't tend to watch television anyway, and their bed... well it was safe, their favourite place to be. It seemed their bedroom was a little bit sacred too because the boys were less likely to come downstairs to see what they were doing if they're weren't actually down there. So even though it was early, being snuggled up in bed was just fine by Cal.

Gillian sighed and rested her head down. "Don't rush me though."

"I won't," Cal agreed.

"You're going to wait for me to catch up?"

"Yes," he insisted. "Stop talkin', more readin'."

Gillian brought up her left hand and held the page back and Cal relaxed a little, the weight of his wife's presence was always so comforting. Just being with her was the best.

"Gill?"

"Hm?" She responded absently. Cal let the book drop forward. "Hey!"

"About you goin' back to work as a therapist."

Gillian shifted to prop herself up to see his face. She was curious but also holding back anticipation. "I know you're not lookin' for my permission. But if my blessin' is worth anythin' then I give that. You're brilliant at whateva you do and I can't fault you for wantin' to push yourself to do somethin' else." He paused. "That's all I wanted to say," he lifted the book once more but Gillian pushed it back down against his chest with her hand.

"I would love your blessing," she told him seriously. "Thank you."

Cal gave a nod.

"I've been... talking to a friend. He's moving into an office space not far from the Group and he wants someone a few days a week."

"So you've already organised it?" Cal accused even though he was trying so hard not to.

"No," Gillian told him slowly and pointedly. "Just talking."

Cal took a second, gathered himself back under control again. "We could still have lunch sometimes."

Gillian smiled. "Yeah we could. I'd like that. Reminds me of when we first met."

Cal smiled as well. That was exactly why he was giving his blessing. He had been thinking about her then too. How she was with Seth and the boys in the home she cared about so much. And how now she had her own boys to care about but it was different. She wasn't the same person. She wouldn't be so easily swayed, Cal knew that. She had been searching for something back then and what she had found was him and their family. Not Alec, but Cal. What he was worrying about was ridiculous. Nothing was going to happen. She was going to be down the road for goodness's sake. It wasn't really going to change anything.

"Do you remember?"

"Course I bloody rememba," Cal grouched at her, insulted.

Gillian gave a small smirk. "You seemed lost in thought there for a moment."

"I was thinkin' about you."

"You're not afraid I'm going to run off?"

"That's not fair," Cal whined. "You know what I mean."

"I don't," she shook her head at him so her hair fell loosely around her face. Cal brought up a hand to brush it back so he could see her. "But I do see you trying and I love that." She pushed up so she could give him a quick kiss. "Baby steps ok?"

"I don't know why I'm bein' so silly."

"I do," Gillian told him simply. "It's because you love me."

"Oh yeah that," Cal replied dryly but his heart did a flutter in a distinctive way.

Gillian's lips twitched with amusement. "We've had it good together these last twenty years. Fierce loyalty and growing closer and closer together."

"Are you psychoanalysin' me?"

"And now you feel all that stability is being shaken up. Change is hard Cal but sometimes change is for the better."

"Hmph," he grumped.

"Do you not get bored doing the same thing every day? Don't you want a new challenge? Owen will be in school in two weeks."

"Oh so you're feeling abandoned?" Cal cut in.

Gillian ignored him easily. "I just want to try something different. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out. You and the boys are still my priority. You always will be." She paused and gave him a hard expression. "Always."

Cal nodded.

"You'll be retiring soon anyway," she shot as she started to turn back to read again.

"You take that back," Cal protested. "I'm forty-five!"

Not fifty-eight.


	53. Chapter 53

"Evenin'," Cal greeted Owen and Gillian, who were preparing dinner. Owen was at the sink peeling potatoes and Gillian was crumbing chicken thighs.

"Hi Dad," ten-year-old Owen responded, concentrating on his task.

Cal gave Gillian a kiss on the cheek, hand in the small of her back. She gave him a smile. "How was school?" He asked his youngest.

"Good," Owen looked up, blue eyes that beautiful shade of his mother's. His hair was still bright blonde, worse in the summer. "How was your school?"

Cal gave a grin. "Good. And you?" He turned to his wife, his hand still against her. He leaned against the bench next to where she was working, careful not to put his sleeve in flour or breadcrumbs.

"It was good thank you," she smiled again. "I need to talk to you about something," she added lightly.

"Go ahead," Cal inclined his head, curious.

'_Alone_,' she mouthed.

"How far away is dinna Wen?"

"Ages," Owen muttered.

"All right, then I'll go up and get changed," Cal informed them. "Where's the teenaga?"

"In his room," Gillian answered giving a funny roll of her eye to say she would be up in a second and he should wait for her in their room. Lewis was on table and dishes after dinner, while Owen helped cooked. Tomorrow they would swap.

Cal pushed away from the bench and headed up the stairs to the master bedroom. He kicked off his work shoes and started to loosen his tie. On Tuesday and Thursday afternoon's he took a lecture at George Washington University, Emily's old alma mata of all places, in body language and psychology; he was a Collegiate Professor. Gillian was at the practice Monday's, and half days Wednesday's and Thursday's. Owen played baseball and had practice, in the right season of course, on a Wednesday; in the winter it was basketball and practices were on a Thursday. Lewis played tennis, but that was only because Cal insisted he do something that required physical activity. Owen actually volunteered to play both his sports.

Cal was pulling on a t-shirt when Gillian entered. She gave him a once over then sat at the chest at the end of their bed, where the boys' cribs had once stood, so long ago now. "Well?" Cal prompted. "What's this thing you need to talk to me about?"

"Lewis has a girlfriend."

Cal gave her a surprised expression. "Really? Since when?"

"I don't know. She got off the bus with him today and he so casually introduced us. He's just like you..."

"Is she nice?" Cal cut her off approaching where she sat.

"I don't really know," Gillian hesitated. "I barely met her."

"What's her name then?"

"Hollie."

"Cute name," Cal noted.

"She _was_ cute. Black hair, blue eyes, petite."

Cal watched his wife as she talked. It was hard to tell... "Are you all right with the fact Lewis has a girlfriend? Did he say she was his girlfriend?"

"Yes, he said 'Mum this is my girlfriend Hollie'."

"Right. And so you're...?" Cal searched her face, getting closer.

"It's... I mean he is fifteen," Gillian looked up at him.

"Yes," Cal agreed.

"I don't know. I just wonder sometimes what goes on with him. He always talks to you."

"Come on," Cal brought a hand to her neck.

"No I don't mean that," Gillian protested. "I just meant, this is the age where you start to lose your kids. They follow you around like little puppies and then they get older and suddenly you're not so cool to talk to anymore."

Oh ouch.

Cal pulled her against him. That was true actually. With Em it had happened so abruptly and Cal had always slightly been out of the loop because she was a girl. He'd been pretty good at keeping her at a distance, not realising how she was turning into her own person, not wanting to get to her know her as a little adult; she had only come back to him _after_ she had left high school.

"We won't let that happen," Cal reassured her. "That hasn't happened. Maybe they just started goin' out. Maybe that's why you just met her. Maybe it wasn't a secret at all."

"Maybe."

"Besides," Cal went on, taking a seat next to her. "Maybe Lew just didn't know how to say it. He's the eldest, he doesn't have a reference point." He paused. "It's not like I'm bringin' home a string of women to introduce to him, show him how's it done."

Gillian gave a snort. "I should hope not."

"Who would want me at this age?"

"I want you," Gillian responded meekly. She paused. "Ok so you'll talk to him?"

"Huh?" Cal did a double take. "What am I talkin' to him about?"

"Hollie."

Cal drew away from her again. "What about Hollie?"

"You know," Gillian stared at him meaningfully.

"I don't. Spell it out."

"What they're up to."

"You want me to pry?"

"I want you to make sure they're being... safe."

"Safe?" Cal was feeling particularly dense. And then he clicked. He got to his feet. "You think they're?"

"I don't know."

"Geeze he's fifteen."

"Didn't stop you," Gillian shot back. "In fact, weren't you younger?"

"Yeah but," Cal went to their bedroom door and closed it. "I was different. Lew's not as..."

"Horny?"

"Mature," Cal finished with an embarrassed smirk at his wife's leering.

"Lewis is mature," Gillian countered.

"Yeah but not in _that_ way," Cal crossed to stand in front of her again. The kid was still turning into a man.

"It wouldn't hurt," Gillian also stood. She had just turned sixty and her hair was streaked with silver, while Cal's was a light grey now. She was aging better than he was and he was jealous. "To maybe just talk to him about it."

"He knows all about sex," Cal countered. "We've talked about it."

"That was years ago, when he started going through puberty."

"We talked about condoms then too."

"Yeah well a refresher _wouldn't_ _hurt_," Gillian told him pointedly.

"Fine," Cal sighed. "I'll talk to him."

"Let's do it now, Owen's going to put the potatoes on. The chicken's ready to go in the oven."

"Hold up," Cal caught her hand as she went to walk by. "You're not comin'."

She gave him started blue eyes. "Why not?"

"I'm not doin' it if you're listenin' in."

"Oh come on," Gillian gave him an unimpressed expression. "You're not going to say anything I don't already know. Right?"

"I might."

"What are you going to talk about?" Gillian gave a frown of curiosity.

"You want me to have a chat about girlfriends... I might impart some male wisdom that's just for the male species to know," Cal shot back.

"He's _fifteen_. Keep your male species corruption to yourself," she narrowed her eyes slightly and Cal fought back a grin. "And stop smirking about it."

"Stop pressurin' me," Cal whined.

"You're stalling."

"I've not done this before," Cal groused. "I'm nervous."

"You're such a baby."

"Why don't you do it then?" Cal shot back.

"Cos you're his father."

"Allegedly."

Gillian smacked his upper arm. "And it will be better coming from you. Considering you have a penis and I don't."

Cal bit back the smart-mouthed retort he had for that comment.

"Fine I'll leave you to it."

"Thank you," Cal responded with a tone that suggested he wasn't entirely happy with his win. He caught his wife's sleeve before she could get out of reach. "If I'm gonna do it then I wanna have a fatha-son chat about girlfriends and first time's and bein' safe and I'll tell you all about it tonight. Afta. All right?"

"That's fine," Gillian responded but her tone had lost its edge and her eyes had softened from their hardness.

Cal gave her a quick kiss. "All right." Then he strolled from the room.


	54. Chapter 54

_AN: M rated chapter_

**PJ**

Cal opened the door and Gillian darted in and punched in their code into the alarm pad on the wall. When the door closed she put in a different combination to set the perimeter alarm, just in case anyone else decided to show up at the Lightman Group on a Sunday evening... They'd get a warning this way. Cal was already at her back, warm, his hands possessive as they slid around her body, to tuck into the top of her jeans. "Sure you wanna do this?" He murmured against her skin as he leaned down to kiss her neck.

"Yes," Gillian whispered back. She pushed against him and he gave a little growl which sent a shiver through her and honestly, the idea of having sex on her desk right now was actually really appealing; the anticipation was already low in her belly. She turned and took his hand and led him down the hallway quickly and around the corner. Of course, they should also really get this over with before she lost her nerve and got paranoid that someone was watching.

They reached her office and she turned her back against the door to push it open. Cal was watching her with slight curiosity, but mostly arousal and Gillian felt the tension in her stomach spike. She pulled him closer and reached up her free hand to hook around his neck, bringing her mouth up to meet his. He kissed her hotly, like he had just been waiting for the connection, like he had been dying without her and could now breathe again. He pushed into her body, nudging her back and she lost track of where they were in the room; caught up in him. He said her desk and eventually she felt something solid bump against her back. She pulled away to catch her breath and looked behind her and yes, there they were, at her desk, her chair haphazardly off to the side.

"You can say stop if you want to," Cal told her gently, his blue eyes earnest.

Gillian shook her head. "No," her voice was shaky and she was already so turned on she could feel her body drawing towards him. She probably couldn't stop at this point if she wanted to. She hooked both arms around his neck to press her chest against his. His eyes were dark and the sun was setting and no one would see... no one would even know but them. She shivered at the thought, her mind already racing ahead.

Cal gave her a slight grin and dropped his arms around the small of her back. He rocked them side to side, as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "You're brilliant you know?"

Gillian gave him a smile. "Just get on with it before I change my mind."

"Ok," Cal murmured and went back to kissing her. He let her go and she missed the warmth of his arms around her until she felt his fingers at her jeans. The touch sent a shock straight up her but she also felt a pang of a disappointment he really was just going to go straight for the jugular. If it was a quickie he wanted, or intended, she wasn't prepared for that. But once her jeans were undone his hands moved again. He smoothed them up her ribs, pushing the material of her jersey and her tank top underneath with them. He squeezed her breasts, his tongue soft against hers. She was aware of her heart now, could feel it starting to pound and he tasted like chilli. It made her burn for him.

Cal pushed her jeans down and lifted her to sit on the desk. He stepped back to pull her trousers off and tossed them to her chair. He gave her a grin and she could see he was thoroughly enjoying this. "Don't get too smug Doctor Lightman," she warned, still not sure how he was going to pace this.

Cal grinned as he started kissing her neck again. "Well Ms Lightman, I was incredibly displeased with your dictation today. I'm gonna have to pound your incompetence out of you."

Gillian gasped and giggled and pulled him in against her with her thighs. "I'm so sorry Mr Lightman," she went on, picking up his game. "How can I make it up to you?"

Cal laughed lightly and pulled back to see her face. She pouted, eyes wide, looking up at him contritely. "Well," he leaned down to give her a brief kiss. "I can think of at least _one_ way," he told her gently, his voice high and light.

Gillian laughed again and Cal chuckled. He pulled her jersey off carefully, so he didn't catch her earrings up in the material and threw that with her trousers. "Can I keep my job then Mr Lightman?"

"That's Docta Lightman to you, young lady."

Gillian threw her arms around his neck. "Ooooh yeah I like that. Keep talking like that."

Cal growled and leaned in to kiss her neck again, teasing her slowly, letting his hands trail over her skin softly so she shivered. "Cold?" He asked innocently.

"You're over dressed," Gillian reprimanded. She pushed against his shoulders and then leaned back on her hands, her fingers knocking into the cup holding pens and the edge of a photo frame. "Take it off," she gave a jerk of her chin.

Cal tried to step back but her legs tightened and she wouldn't let him go. He grinned again as he pulled off his jersey, then the t-shirt underneath. "And those," Gillian indicated with her head, watching, waiting, enjoying it. Cal reached down to the catch of his jeans and popped the top button open. She could see he was already straining through the denim. He watched her watch him undo all the buttons slowly, revealing himself through his boxer-briefs.

"Gillian," he grumbled.

"Keep going," Gillian directed having to shift slightly to let the feeling back in her hands.

Cal pushed his jeans down at the hips and the material caught where her thighs were pressed tightly around him. He finally looked down and gave a little indication with his hand, "Kinda caught up here."

Gillian let him go and he shimmied his jeans down to the floor, then took her legs and brought them up higher to his waist, tipping her back. She leaned on her elbows and Cal moved in closer so she could feel the hardness of him against her. She gave a little groan and he pushed harder, moving his hips up and down and she clutched at him, "Cal!"

His hand moved between them. "You're so naughty Gillian," he murmured against her throat. "You're gonna make a mess on your desk."

"Me?" Gillian gasped. "Who's idea _was_ this?"

"Yours," Cal growled, slipping beneath her underwear to stroke.

Gillian's hips pushed up against him. "Oh god," she moaned again, involuntary this time. "Yours," she countered. "This is _your_ fantasy."

"God yes!" Cal agreed pushing a finger inside her.

"Oh!" Gillian cried and clawed at his shoulder again. She still needed one arm to hold herself up. She found purchase against him and wrapped her right arm around the back of his shoulders, bringing him closer to her, so she could draw her tongue around his ear and make him grunt with the pleasure of it. She teased her teeth against his lobe and the edge of his jaw while he wound her up. Finally she was gasping for air and twitching, her body begging for the release. She could feel him rock hard against her legs as she squirmed out of control. She let go of his shoulder and pushed herself up from the desk. She pulled him free from the restraints of his underwear.

His face dropped to her chest and he groaned as she stroked him gently. "You're killin' me," he groaned.

"Shh," Gillian told him. "Let me do this for you Mr Lightman."

"Don't tell my wife."

Gillian smiled slightly, her back ached from holding herself up and his hand was still between her thighs, alternately squeezing and fluttering but there was barely any room for him or her and finally he broke away. "Enough," he ground out and pushed her hands aside. Gillian lowered herself back against the desktop; there was just enough room for her to fit but she heard the cup drop to the floor and bounce, the pens scattering. Cal leaned over her body, pulling her closer to him by hands in the back of her knees. She looked up at him, waiting, rising her arms to meet him, to hold him while he screwed her, the anticipation making her want to hurt him if he did not hurry the fuck up.

"Hang on," he grunted and leaned over to the left. Gillian turned her head to see as he flattened the photograph of him and the boys next to her computer screen so it was face down against the desk. She laughed again and he grinned and she lifted her hips up to him. "All right, all right, don't rush me."

"Oh fuck you," Gillian murmured with a huff.

"Fuck me?" Cal questioned innocently. "Fuck me?" He leaned over her again, over the desk, gripping the back edge of it, the coarse hair of his navel brushing roughly against hers. She could feel him pressing against her. Gillian reached up her arm, pulling his neck down closer so his chest was against hers and she arched her back so her breasts and bra scratched over his nipples and he growled again.

"Fuck me," Gillian whispered in his ear, shifting her feet behind his calves so he had plenty of space and encouragement. She pushed her hips up to meet his, taking the tip of him in. Cal gasped and Gillian murmured against his temple again, her breath feathery as her stomach tightened with wanting him. "Fuck me. Fuck me Mr Lightman."

Cal gave a grunt and pushed against her and she groaned in desperate pleasure again, tucking her legs up against his waist. After that he didn't need encouragement and their gasps and moans echoed against the walls, building with excitement until they cut off sharply. Gillian felt the slow burn wash over her like a caressing wave of familiarity; the slow dirty kind that rippled on forever and made her forget where she was. But still, Gillian was pretty sure she recovered before Cal did, or at least came back to her senses first. His face was buried against her shoulder and even though she coaxed he remained tense for a long time. He turned his head to press his mouth against her neck. "Cancel my gym appointment Ms Lightman. I've done my work out for today."

Gillian laughed and he pulled back to grin at her. The sun had set and the room was getting dark quickly. They panted at each other for a moment. "That was fantastic," Cal told her sincerely.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. God yeah. Wait, yeah?"

"Yeah," Gillian nodded, and yeah, she did have to admit, there was something deliciously sordid about having a shag on her desk. There was no way she was going to look at it the same now. Cal probably wasn't going to either. Probably? Definitely not. And there was no doubt he was going to tease her or give her a lewd grin the next time he saw her sitting behind it.

Oh god she hadn't thought that through. It could be a very bad thing.

Cal withdrew but kept his mouth close against her. "Tell me about yours."

"My what?" Gillian asked surprised.

"Your fantasies."

She could feel him shifting, his hands brushing against her as he used tissues from her desk to clean himself and fix his underwear back in place. "I don't," she started.

"You have to," Cal countered. He straightened up and bent down to pull up his jeans. Gillian propped herself up on her elbows again, letting her legs swing. "You have to have somethin'."

Gillian gave a slight shrug. Cal shook his head, finishing with his jeans. He pressed his hands down on the desk, either side of her and leaned in close. "I don't accept that. Tell me," he murmured softly. "I won't laugh."

"I," Gillian started but found, maybe on some level, she _was_ embarrassed. She pushed him away.

"Gill?" Cal stepped away from her, finding her shirt and jersey so she could re-dress. "Is there somethin' I should know?"


	55. Chapter 55

It was not the first time he had asked but she still didn't have an answer and the thing was, it went back further than him, a lot further back than him. It's not that she didn't sometimes think about something that was fun, or a little dirty, it was just that, sex was so good with him that when they were going for it those things didn't cross her mind; she didn't need something else to make it better when it was just fine as it was.

But maybe Cal was right, maybe there were things he should know. Not because he was pressing her buttons, but because they didn't have secrets between them. Not that it was a secret. It wasn't. And it wasn't like it was necessarily something bad either it was...

"I can hear you thinkin'," Cal noted from the darkness of the driver's seat. "But I can't hear you talkin'."

Gillian sighed. "Can I tell you later? When we're in bed?"

"We're not talkin' about the same thing are we?"

"No," Gillian admitted.

"Should I be worried?"

"No," Gillian said again but she hesitated over the word and that was enough to put Cal on the alert. She sensed the stiffening of his body. He glanced over at her. "I'll explain when we get home."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I just don't want to get into this and then have to put on a happy face for our daughter."

"Did you just say _our_ daughta?" Cal turned to glance at her quickly. He bumped the wheel and had to right it quickly before he crossed lanes. The car jerked around for a second.

Gillian was mortified. Actually mortified. "I didn't mean that, it was a slip of the tongue!" She told him quickly.

Cal chuckled. "I'm just, actually, I'm surprised it didn't happen soona."

"Don't tell Emily I said that."

"Why not? She'd be pleased you're adoptin' her."

"She has a mother," Gillian pointed out.

"So. Some kids are special and have to Mummy's," he teased.

"It's not funny Cal."

But it did distract him.

"It bloody is! Emily would be the first to admit Zoe was not exactly the world's greatest mutha. Havin' a back up did her a world of good."

Gillian shrunk back in her seat, still not impressed. "Don't tell Emily, she'll tell Zoe," she warned in a low tone.

Cal was silent for a moment. "All right," he agreed, his voice serious again. "Between you and me then."

"Thank you."

"Like the convasation we're gonna have when we get home."

"Yeah yeah," Gillian grouched. "I heard you."

Cal laughed again. "Hey, a shag in the office is meant to make you feel good."

Gillian smiled in the darkness despite herself. Oh yeah it had been good. She'd had to bin practically her entire desk pad and she was pretty sure she was missing a few pens from the mug that had fallen to the floor but at least her entire desk hadn't collapsed on them.

"Next time, can we do it on the coffee table?"

"No way. You bruised my shoulders so badly last time we did it on the table like that." Which is exactly why it had been a gazillion years since they'd done it.

"We've done it on plenty of tables."  
>"Yes but when you have the extra leverage advantage, I suffer for it."<p>

Cal laughed again. "The couches?"

"Yours are easier to clean," Gillian shot back.

"Why you spoil my fun?"

"Why are you not mortified about people potentially finding out we had sex in the office?" The thought made her stomach quiver with nerves. Cal gave a shrug. "You have no shame Doctor Lightman," Gillian leaned forward to lick around the curve of his ear. Then she bit down on his lobe. That should shut him up.

His laugh cut off and the car swerved dangerously again. "Geeze are you tryin' to kill us?" He complained. "Save it for late-a."

"I'd say that's you pretty much done for a while," Gillian sat back, a little triumphant.

"For my next project, I'm gonna work on a time machine."

"What for?" Gillian asked confused. So they could go back to twenty minutes ago? Admittedly, she was going to be reliving that one for a few days. Maybe weeks. It had been a really good anniversary weekend.

"Go back and meet you earlia in my lifetime. Get in some extra shags."

"And what makes you think I'd have a bar of you way back then?"

Cal chuckled once more as he turned onto their street. "All right, so are we gonna boot our daughta out? Or be civil and maybe have a glass of wine?"

"Glass of wine," Gillian decided. "You can wait to hear my story."

Cal grumbled something like 'forgot bout that' as he turned into their drive. They were home just as it was 'bed time'. Owen rushed Gillian at the foot of the stairs. "I missed you Mum!"

Gillian laughed and lifted him to her hip. "Where's everyone else?'

"Ajay's there," Owen pointed over his shoulder towards the living room. "And Lewis and Emmy are up there," he pointed up the stairs.

"What are you doin' down here?" Cal asked, leaning in to plant a kiss on his son's cheek.

"I was," Owen looked vague while he tried to come up with a good excuse.

"Hidin'," Cal accused. "Have you don't your teeth?"

"Yes," Owen answered.

"Are you sure?" Gillian asked. But he smelt like mint so he must have.

"Ahhhh!" Owen squealed and squirmed until his mother put him down.

"Up," Cal grabbed him by the shoulder. "Bed time. Let's go!" Owen took off at a run and Cal followed behind him.. Cal caught Owen around the waist while they were still in the hallway and lifted him to his shoulder. Owen let out another squeal and laughed. Emily's head appeared around the bathroom door where she was with Lewis, while he brushed his teeth

"Oh hey!" Emily greeted her father. "You're back early. I thought you'd be out later."

"Thought we'd have a glass of wine togetha," Cal countered, putting Owen down in his bedroom door way across the hall. "Get into bed," he directed the boy. "If you want?" He lifted his gaze back to his daughter.

"Yeah sure," Emily gave a shrug to say she didn't mind.

Lewis appeared. "Hi Dad."

"Hey buddy."

"Did you have a nice dinner?"

"Yeah it was really nice."

Lewis brushed past him and Cal turned to follow his son into the room. Emily came too and they doled out hugs and kisses and goodnights. Owen asked Cal to send Mum in and Cal said he would. Emily waited for her father in the hallway. "Were they good?" Cal asked as they started walking downstairs.

"Yeah they were fine, as always," Emily responded.

"Thanks for babysittin'."

"I enjoy spending time with them. Wish we could spend more."

"I undastand," Cal told her as they headed down the stairs. "Life is busy and you're thinkin' about startin' your own family."

Emily turned her head sharply. "Who told you that?"

"You forget. I read faces."

Emily 'hmmed' as they headed into the kitchen, but now it was confirmed for Cal; Emily and Ajay were at least beginning to think about starting to have children of their own. Emily was twenty-nine now. Cal could hardly argue she was too young. Gillian and Ajay were sitting on the couches across the room, white wine in hand. There were two glasses poured on the breakfast bar, waiting for Cal and Emily.

"So where'd you guys go?" Emily asked, taking a seat next to her husband on the love seat.

Cal sat next to his wife on the three-seater. "The Wheaton festival." He leaned closer to Gillian. "The boys want you to say goodnight."

"Oh yeah they have great food," Ajay spoke up as Gillian got to her feet.

They talked for an hour and drank the wine. Emily invited the boys to stay sometimes in the summer and Cal invited Ajay and Emily to have dinner with them next week, and more often than they currently were. With promises made they said goodnight. Cal locked the door and headed upstairs after his wife. She was in the bathroom, the shower was running and she was stripping off everything she was wearing and tossing the clothes in the hamper.

"Can I join you?" Cal asked politely.

"Sure," she shot him a smile over her shoulder as she stepped under the water. The shower door clicked shut and Cal did the same, stripped off everything he was wearing and followed her in. She made room for him, her body foamy with body wash that smelt like peaches. Cal breathed in the scent deeply, wanting more. Gillian spread her lathered hands over his chest and made him turn around. She rubbed his back and shoulders firmly. "It's been a while since we did this," she noted.

"Showa-ed togetha?"

"Well that too, but I meant, me washing your back or rubbing your shoulders."

"You _should_ do that more often then," Cal gave a little groan as she worked his muscles. Gillian pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "My turn," he spun on her, careful so he didn't slip and fall. Gillian presented him with her back and he reached for the body wash. He leaned closer to her ear. "I'm gonna say all the mushy things about you bein' a good mum, and bein' glad we have two boys and how I love you and love bein' married to you for ten years and that I hope we get ten more." He caught the smile at the edge of her jaw.

"Go on," she encouraged.

"I just said them," Cal told her, pressing his thumbs against the edge of her spine.

She arched slightly. "Ok then thanks."

Cal grinned.

"Back at you." A pause. "Not the Mom bit but you know, the marriage stuff."

"Yeah right," Cal agreed gruffly. "I'm gonna go have a beer and go to sleep then."

"Don't forget to put the game on and stick your hand down your pants."

"Oh well I would if I could manage more than once every two days."

Gillian laughed. He always got the last word. She turned around carefully too and reached up to press against his lips, the water running over her back. "You're a fantastic father Cal." He smiled pleased and she went on, not waiting for a reply. "Thank you for the words and the rub."

"You're welcome and also, dirty."

Gillian gave him a grin and pushed against the shower door to get out. Cal finished washing and stepped out himself, reaching for his towel. He found Gillian in bed, her towel over the end of the frame and her eyes watching him. Cal dried off, pulled on clean underwear and flung his towel to mirror hers. He crawled under the covers and suddenly suspected she was naked. Seriously not fair. He was thinking about blue pills again. He didn't want to slow down. He wasn't ready.

"So," Gillian turned on her side to face him. "You want to hear my story?"

A conversation with the lights on? How novel. Cal settled in mirror image. He'd forgotten about this. A mystery story. Something from her past he would guess. Something that had not come up before. And something to do with sex. It could be interesting. "Yes."

"It was in college."

Cal didn't know what to think.

"I was at a party and I was drunk. I was still trying to forget about my father," she hesitated slightly, almost rolled her eyes. "By emulating him." She took a deep breath and smoothed her hand over the hair on Cal's chest, like she was trying to tame it. "I met this guy, who was a jock, popular, good looking. And for whatever reason, he took an interest in me and we got to talking. He took me back to his dorm room and we..." She hesitated and looked up at her husband.

"Had sex," Cal supplied.

"Yes," Gillian just about whispered, but still held his gaze and he could she was partly back there, partly narrating from a distance.

"Did he force you?" Cal hazarded a guess.

"No, not really."

Cal was about to protest but she went on.

"I didn't exactly say 'no'."

"But you wanted to?" He felt his hands get twitchy, like they wanted to close around something and choke it.

"I didn't really know what I wanted. So when he told me to do something I did, even though, maybe, I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't exactly experienced." She paused again and when Cal said nothing she went on. "We weren't exactly careful either and I had to take the morning after pill. Of course I didn't _have_ to take it after all, but I didn't know that then."

A little bit of shame. Still. After two boys? There was still shame there for her? Cal figured it was more to do with Sophie and Lily. Had to. Didn't make sense otherwise.

"Did he hurt you?" Cal prompted. His mind was trying to race and he was trying to stop it. He was imaging the worst. In any scenario where someone hurt his wife it was the worst. Even when she wasn't his wife.

Gillian hesitated. She started to say 'no' and then drew out a 'yes' so it almost didn't sound like the word at all. "He was rough. And," she looked away. "It hurt me, yeah."

Twitchy feeling again.

"You don't," Cal started but it was too late. She _had_ told him.

"There's more," Gillian met his eye again. "A few days later, he found me and knocked on my door and he took me out to a bar."

"Gill, you don't," Cal tried again, fearing the worst.

"No it's ok. This story, it's really not as big a deal as I'm making it sound."

Cal brought a hand up to her arm, unable to keep still any longer.

"It's just that, I was messed up back then and young and I hadn't been with anyone other than my first and so I'm not particularly proud of it. Especially because I did all the stupid things I counselled young women on years later."

Cal loosened his grip on her.

"I wasn't the only one he was... dating at the time," she struggled with the word. "He kept it just tame enough to doubt that he was even doing something wrong. But it felt wrong to me and that should have been enough. I know that now but not back then."

"What did he do?"

"Things I wasn't ready for. With... props and photos."

"He took photos?"

"I got them back. My roommate and I broke in to his dorm and stole a whole stack. And his camera for good measure. And my roommate wiped the images off his hard drive."

"Gill."

"I know," she cut him off. "It was incredibly stupid. Beyond stupid."

"Well we've all done stupid shit," Cal muttered.

"Anyway. My point is. The reason I don't fantasise now is... I had these ideas about how sex would be and how boyfriends were meant to be and no one ever lived up to them until I met you. So... you have fulfilled my fantasies Cal. I meant that, when I told you."

He felt a little ashamed now. Her hand came to his chin and pulled it back up gently, so he would look her in the eye. "You gave me hope." She held his gaze for a long time. Hope. Not just hope but Lewis, their sons, their life, their marriage. Cal closed his eyes in acknowledgement and she gave him a smile when he opened them again. "So... that's the story. Now you know."

Cal nodded. "Thank you for tellin' me."

Twenty-one years he had known her. Ten years of being married. And it was just now he was hearing this story.

"But, uh, while we're talking about fantasies..."

Cal met her eye again, not sure if he should be interested in this, after hearing that, not sure if he was, to be honest.

"Sometimes... when you're all unshaven and rugged," she gave a coy kind of shy smile and Cal made his decision.

"Go on," he encouraged gently, softening his gaze so there was less pressure. Obviously, this was a subject that was difficult for her.

"I picture you with like, coveralls on and... dirty and..."

Cal gave a slow kind of sly smile. "What are you thinkin'? Sewerage worka?"

Gillian laughed and hid her face in her pillow. "No!" Her voice was muffled. But that was what Cal wanted, to lighten the atmosphere in the room again. Fantasies, especially sexual fantasies, should be fun. And thank _fuck_ he had never seen evidence on her face of her connecting with that memory, that story she had just told him, until now.

Gillian turned back to him, one eye still obscured. Cal gave her a slight grin. Damn she looked cute like that. "Go on then," he encouraged lightly again. "Tell me. Tell me what you want," he smoothed his hand further up her arm.

"I was thinking more like... construction..."

"Oh yeah?" Cal raised an eyebrow. Jeans, white undershirt, low slung tool belt. He could do that.

"_With_ the hard hat."

Cal gave her another grin. He was pleased to see Gillian genuinely return it.

And then she giggled.


	56. Chapter 56

Really, what was he doing there? He had convinced himself years ago he had washed his hands of Rader and moved on. But the voice in the back of his head that had made him come today sounded a lot like Gillian; she was a big fan of second chances, even when the first chance had shit all over her. Then again, she'd given him more than his fair share and he was grateful for that. It may have taken him a while, but he had got the message. So maybe Rader deserved a second chance. No he didn't but he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt, for about two minutes and then Cal was going to bail. He hadn't even told Gillian he was coming here today. She was with Owen up at the school, making sure he was settled before she left him for the very first time. Cal had gone in with her, like he had done with Lewis, but then he'd come straight out to the prison.

It was shitty timing; the phone call from Rader had come through the day before. He had requested to see Cal and Cal had initially told him to get stuffed but then there was something in Rader's voice that Cal could not identify but that made him relent a little. He agreed to a meeting. He at least owed it to his curiosity to see what his former protégé wanted. Didn't he? Gillian would tell him yes. Sometimes it was annoying that she was too much in his head.

Cal had to relinquish everything in his pockets and go through a security check and he hoped there wouldn't be some sort of last minute panicked phone call from Owen or his mother that Cal was going to miss now because his phone had been confiscated. He was taken down a locked corridor to a visitation room. Rader was in medium security. Roberts had got minimum and would probably be out in a few months time, if he wasn't already. Rader, however, still had two years to go before he was even allowed to apply for parole.

Because Rader had requested a visitor Cal didn't have to wait long for him to show up. He was in a dark blue, scrub-styled prison uniform. He wasn't in cuffs and there was no plastic between them. They had to sit on opposite sides of the table, which was bolted to the floor; so were the chairs. Cal sized him up immediately, noting the lack of... that brand of Rader arrogance. He actually felt a pang of sympathy. The old Cal tried to shut it down immediately; those kinds of feelings did not serve him well, they made him soft. But the new Cal stopped that because those kinds of feelings, while uncomfortable, made him human.

"All right," Cal greeted warily, getting to his feet. He almost reached over to shake the other man's hand and had to remind himself where he was exactly.

"Thank you for coming," Rader's expression was falsely warm. He was being polite. And also humble. He indicated Cal should sit and he did and then so did Rader.

Cal's protégé had ended up in prison. It felt a bit like he was coming to visit his son.

"I wasn't sure you would," Rader added.

Cal didn't respond. He wasn't going to get into some false anti-pissing contest, pseudo flattery and good will towards all men. There was nothing to say in response. Of course he didn't want to go, of course he had already said 'no' on the phone, of course, he was there now. They both knew that. What more did Rader want?

Jack put his hands up on the desk and Cal could see his knuckles were red and worn, like he was now involved with manual labour and figured, he was probably on laundry duty, or something like that. Life would have changed so much... Life changed. Cal's life was changing too. Gillian was talking about leaving the Lightman Group. After how many years and she wanted to leave? Cal still wasn't sure what he thought about it. It smacked of abandonment big time. And now here was Rader, who had also once upon a time, sat Cal down and told him, when Cal had looked at him a bit like a son, that he wanted to go, that he didn't think there was anything else he could learn from Cal. It had felt so... it felt like betrayal. How was that any different from what Gillian was telling him now? And she was his wife.

"How's things?" Rader went on.

"Oh cut with the chit chat," Cal interrupted. "What is it that you wanted to see me for? There must be somethin' specific. You need money? Want me to get in touch with someone for you?"

Jack looked a little startled, his blue eyes widened.

"Well what were you expectin'?" Cal went on. "Me to hold your hand and make it all betta for you?"

"I was hoping to be able to apologise."

That threw Cal. He'd never know Jack Rader to apologise once in the entire time he'd known the guy. He'd known him longer than Gillian. That kind of thing was weird now. They'd met at the Pentagon, when Cal was still considered brilliant and not a liability. When Cal looked back, Rader leaving was the start of the decline, not that he blamed the other man for it... it was just the first of the domino fall.

"I know right," Rader gave him a slight smile. "Strange coming from me. But I mean that. I'm sorry for what I did. You..." he hesitated and then must have realised who he was talking to; there was no lying to Cal. "Well you might have tried to undermine me a lot but you never touched the people closest to me. What I did, it impacted more than just you. It could have taken Gillian down. And your son."

Cal felt that protective prickle across his skin. "Too right."

"I heard you have another son?"

Cal narrowed his eyes slightly, still suspicious.

"He'd be... five or so?"

"Five," Cal confirmed. And starting school today. Another pang, for a different reason.

Rader looked pleased. "I'm so thrilled for you and Gillian."

"Is this earnin' you brownie points?"

"I'm not up for parole until next year."

"You found religion then?"

"No," Rader gave a slight laugh. "But I've had a lot of time to think."

'_Don't ask me for a job_.'

"Plenty of time to reflect."

Interestingly, Cal had had plenty of time to reflect too. He'd managed it without a prison cell though.

"I just wanted to make amends. If I could. I understand if you can't find it in you to forgive me."

'_Bastard_,' Cal thought. Because now if he didn't forgive Jack he would look weak and stubborn and Rader would win. And if Cal did forgive him then he would look weak and Rader would win. Which was the lesser of two evils? How was he going to save face on this one? Because he _was_ going to save face. Stubborn. He wasn't going to let Rader win, not ever. It was hard to tell if Jack was genuine or not or whether he was playing some game, but the last thing Cal wanted was for his protégé to win it.

Cal turned in his seat so he was facing the younger man, who all of a sudden, didn't seem so young anymore. Cal was in his late fifties; Rader was in his late forties. Time had passed them by. So much time. "Not about forgiveness," Cal mused. "If you meant somethin' to me, it might."

Rader looked surprised but he tried to hide it.

"You see," Cal leaned forward a little and kept his tone light. "Twenty-eight years ago I gave a crap, did you know it's been twenty-eight years?" The question was rhetoric, so Cal went on. "And now, I realise, I don't give a shit anymore. You just don't matta. Sorry." He got up again. The people in his life from twenty-eight years ago weren't even in his life now. Not his protégé, not his wife, not anyone he had worked with back then. The only person who had stuck around, of her own volition, was Gillian. Gillian had been there from the day they met right up until tomorrow. So what was Cal afraid of? Her wanting to go back to counselling a few days a week? Even if she got caught up she would still be there. No matter what happened, the one thing Cal was sure of in his life, even over his children, who would one day grow up and leave home and venture out to create their own, was Gillian. Cal was sure of Gillian.

Cal turned away from Rader, who looked a little stricken and started to walk away. Cal didn't even feel victorious. He just felt... like he'd reached an epiphany, a level of understanding and forgiveness, for himself and for his life and for how it used to be. Everything had changed and he knew it would continue to do so. That was life. That was how it had to be. Where did the spiral begin? How long was a piece of string? He couldn't stop it, control it, manipulate it. He didn't want to. He wanted Gillian to do the things she loved. He had already bent over backwards to love her, to give her sons, to give her happiness. Why not this too? Really, in the grand scheme of things, this was small potatoes.

Cal reached the door made of steel and indicated to the guard he wanted to leave. He didn't look back as he walked through and away down the corridor, free, while Rader stayed to sit out his last remaining months. Cal felt light, like he was walking on pink candy floss clouds, because he loved his wife and he had a wife who loved him and there weren't many in the world who could claim to have that. And when he got home, he was going to tell his wife that she should absolutely go back to counselling, she should absolutely do all the things, everything, that she could to be happy. He wanted her to. He would give her his blessing.


	57. Chapter 57

The boys took time off from day care and school once Gillian had explained to them their Grandfather had died. Tomorrow was the funeral and Cal was also not working for a few days with everything going on. Gillian was basically organising everything because her mother wasn't really in the right frame of mind and Matthew... was just not. Cal didn't know the details because he was just slightly outside of the loop of information but he got the impression Matthew had always just... not.

Cal was currently looking for clothes for the boys. Gillian wanted to put them in suits for the funeral but Cal had talked her out of it. When else were they going to wear a suit? He didn't really want to be planning for the next funeral so soon. Not to mention the fact that Lewis and Owen were both growing and the suits wouldn't fit in six months time anyway. So he was shopping for dark trousers and shirts and nice shoes, which was a lot harder to do without a second parent. Gillian was a miracle worker spending the majority of her time with the boys alone. Cal had already spent a lot of time today chasing down the three year old Owen, or sending eight year old Lewis after him.

Everything was interesting. Everything should be touched or looked at immediately. Even the wad of gum someone had dropped on the tiled floor of the mall they were in. Shirts and trousers had to be manhandled onto the toddler who just wanted to touch or look at everything in his vicinity. The tall mirror in the changing room was fascinating because it reflected back the mirror behind them and so on and so forth to create an infinity of reactions. Lewis wanted to dress himself, which was fine, if he also didn't complain about how the tag scratched at his neck, which meant Cal couldn't see if the shirt even fit him properly. And then Owen thought peeking under the doors of the other changing stalls was a lot of fun, particularly when he found someone in one of them.

Cal seriously wondered if the boys were that much trouble for their mother. Seriously.

So they moved on to shoes. Lewis wanted to carry his own bag, which meant Owen did too, but he dragged the bag because he wasn't tall or strong enough and if it was anything else, Cal might not have minded, but those were his nice newly paid for funeral clothes and Gillian would... she wouldn't even kill Cal, he knew, she'd just give him that look and he'd feel doubly guilty. So he took Owen's clothes off him again which made the boy attempt to chuck a fit in the middle of a stream of traffic and Cal could feel those disapproving glances and those other ones that said 'why isn't your other kid in school?' because Lewis stood by and watched.

"Help me out there," Cal asked him, handing over Owen's bag for the elder boy to carry, while he also signed 'help'. Cal crouched down and grasped Owen around an arm and a leg, stood, and slung him over his shoulder quickly, like he was a boar.

Owen gave a cry of surprise and beat his hand against his father's back. "Down!" He howled. "Down!" But he wasn't crying anymore, and he wasn't carrying on about wanting to carry his own bag. Cal jigged him as he started walking again, giving a jerk of his head in his eldest son's direction to say 'come on.' Owen giggled. "Again!" He requested, hand still slapping. "Again, horsie!"

Cal gave a little skip as they wandered along. Lewis smiled slightly but kept his gaze just slightly averted and Cal thought again about how it was strange the eldest lived in the shadow of the youngest. He needed something for just him and Lewis to do. Something special, for older kids, to celebrate him... Might be a good way to get Gillian talking too, asking her to help him think of something, to put a plan into place.

Cal and Lewis stepped into the shoe store and headed over to the children's section. The staff looked over at them and seemed to debate who was going to have to deal. Cal slid Owen down his back, making sure he settled on his feet on the chair behind him. Then he turned, still holding on to the boys arm. He leaned down, got in the kids face. "Are you gonna be nice to Dad? Are you gonna help me out with some new shoes?" He placed his right hand into the cusp of his left and moved them towards his youngest son.

Owen's blue eyes studied him carefully. Cal was sure, if Owen's language comprehension was bigger, he would say 'what's in it for me?' Cal remembered when a simple request was all he had to make of Lewis; actually, that was still true. And he realised again how different his boys were and how this was obviously going to take a different approach. He just needed to figure it out.

"Come have a look at these," Cal lifted Owen again, to his hip. When he turned, Lewis had put the bags down and was fingering up some trainers. "Nice shoes Lew," Cal told him, giving his shoulder a squeeze as he went by with Owen. Lewis looked up at him and Cal signed a quick and awkward two-handed 'nice' as a reminder.

Cal took Owen around the rows to the shiny leather shoes. "Look at these," Cal pointed to some basic lace ups. Owen stared but would not be bought. Shame, because Cal was not going to bribe. He had not with Lewis (aside from the occasional manipulation of things Lewis was going to get anyway) and he would not again with Owen. That encouraged bad habits. "Shiny huh?"

"Hm," Owen noted.

Cal took a pair off the shelf. "Do you like these ones?"

Owen shook his head.

Cal put them back, as if Owen's opinion mattered. He would get the kid into them later. "Do you want to hear a story?"

"I like stories," Owen noted. He patted his father's mouth. "Pretty out your mouth."  
>Cal pretended to munch on Owen's fingers and the boy laughed and pulled them away quickly, while Cal smiled inside. "It's about elves," Cal went on. "And a shoemake-a. He worked so very hard main' shoes but he could neva make enough to sell and buy food with."<p>

Owen looked at him hard, listening.

"Eventually, he had nothin' left to sell to feed him and his wife but enough leather left to make one pair of shoes," Cal turned to the shelf again and wandered along it. Lewis was picking out shoes for himself. "Black," Cal told him, running his hand along his forehead while his index finger pointed to the left. "Have to be black rememba?" He found some and the correct size and pointed to them for Lewis.

"More," Owen demanded, getting his father's attention again.

"So he cut the leather to make the shoes the next mornin' when he woke up. And you know what happened when he woke up?" Cal asked.

Owen's eyes went wide and he shook his head.

"The shoes had already been made!"

Owen gave a little gasp. Cal turned back to the shelf. He found some simple black lace up's and held one against the bottom of the shoe his son was already wearing. Wrong size.

"Who made them?" Owen asking, tapping his father's shoulder to get his attention again. His other hand had the fingers curved up towards the ceiling in a 'wh?' question sign.

"Well he was really stunned," Cal went on. "Who made the shoes? He didn't know. But they were perfect. And they were beautiful," Cal put the shoe back and moved his flat hand over his face.

"Magic," Owen supplied.

"Well," Cal shifted the boy on his hip. "Someone came into the store and saw the shoes and loved them so much he paid lots for them. The shoemake-a was thrilled and bought enough leatha for two more pairs. And that night he cut them out and thought he would go to bed and make them in the mornin'. And do you know what happened?"

A sales assistant approached but Cal indicated he was fine. Owen's eyes went wide again. "Magic!"

"Yes," Cal nodded. "Magic. The shoemake-a woke up and the shoes were made. Perfect again and beautiful. He sold them and had enough money for four more pairs!"

"Oh lot's!" Owen exclaimed.

"Yeah!" Cal agreed readily. "So again he cut the leatha and when he woke in the mornin' the shoes were made and he sold them for more money and soon he was much betta and he could have lots of food for him and his wife."

"Lots of shoes," Owen mused.

"Yes, there were lots of shoes but if he wasn't makin' the shoes, then who was?"

Lewis approached with his shoes on. "Nice, Lewis," Cal encouraged. "What do you think?" He pointed to his forehead. Lewis considered them. He signed 'ok'. "Try some more," Cal told him. "Lots of shoes."

"Lots of shoes Daddy!"

"Yea," Cal turned back to Owen again. The kid was getting heavy. "So the shoemake-a decided the only way to know would be to sit up and wait to see what happened." Owen leaned forward, closer, as if he couldn't get enough. It was great having the kid enthralled but Cal was going to have to relate this back to Owen getting his own pair in the end.

"So he waited up with his wife and at midnight two little naked elves arrived!"

"Oh!" Owen gasped.

"And they sat down and worked away quickly and made all the leatha into shoes for the next day."

"Magic," Owen murmured.

"Yeah magic," Cal agreed. "Elvin magic."

"Eelfs," Owen noted.

"There's more," Cal warned. "Do you want to hear the end?" Owen nodded vigorously. "Well the shoemake-a's wife thought it was sad these little elves worked so hard for them, for nothin', no money and no food and they didn't have any clothes!"

"Oh!" Owen laughed. "No clothes!"

"So the shoemake-a's wife decided to make a little shirt and little trousers and little hats for them. And the shoemake-a decided he would make them a pair of little shoes. When they were ready they left the clothes and the shoes on the table for the little elves to find when they arrived the next night and the shoemake-a and his wife went to hide so the elves wouldn't see them."

Lewis re-appared with a different pair of shoes on.

"More Daddy," Owen demanded.

"Hang on a sec," Cal told him, turning to Lewis. "Those are nice. Do you like those ones?" He moved his hand from his chest, bringing his thumb and middle finger together to touch.

Lewis gave a half hearted shrug.

"More!"

"Hang on!" Cal told Owen firmly. "Take a seat Lew and I'll come ova in a second." He signed an awkward 'second'. He needed two hands and one arm was caught up completely with holding Owen.

Lewis wandered away and Cal turned to his youngest son. "All right. So do you wanna know what happened to the elves?"

Owen nodded despite himself.

"Well they arrived that night to make the shoes but instead of findin' work left out there were neat little clothes! They were thrilled!"

Owen smiled, his blue eyes steady on his father, his little hand pressing into the larger shoulder he was clinging on to absently as he listened.

"So they put the clothes on and laughed and danced around the room and then they went home."

Bit of a letdown story. But here was the point:

"So what do you reckon Owen? Wanna try on some elf shoes?"

"Yes!" Owen rocked forward so he almost knocked his nose into Cal's chin.

Cal turned him towards the shelf and they picked out two pairs to try on. Cal took him back to the seat where big brother was waiting patiently. Cal put Owen down on the chair and told him to take his old shoes off. While he did that, Cal focused on Lewis. He checked the toe and heel of the shoes Lewis had on to make sure they at least fit him properly, and might actually give him a bit of wear if there was a bit of room to grow. Lewis walked around in them to show his father, while he took a seat to watch, and a sales assistant came over again to help Owen, which was good, because Lewis really opened up when he got one-on-one time with his father. Cal let Lewis pick which ones he liked better. They had a blood red streak in the sole that would be a secret, which he loved, and so Cal agreed he could have that black pair instead of that other black pair.

"Elf shoes," Owen told the sales assistant who gave him a nod and a smile and carried on lacing the black leather shoes. Owen knocked his feet together. Cal gave Lewis the cash to go and pay for his shoes and turned his attention to his youngest.

"There's a bit of room in there," the sales assistant told him. "So he can get some wear."

"Right," Cal agreed but what did it matter? The kid was three. It wasn't like he had a lot of formal events to go to. "Go for a walk Owen," Cal pushed the boy to stand on his feet. Owen turned to rest his hands on his father's knees. "Up there," Cal pointed to the end of the shelf. He signed 'walk'. Owen didn't move and Cal saw Lewis approaching again, his box of shoes in a bag in his hand, the receipt tightly in the other. "Go to Lewis," Cal encouraged.  
>Owen turned to his brother, and walked towards him. Lewis put the receipt in the bag and then took Owen's hand and murmured something to him. Cal found it interesting the two boys often murmured to each other. Lewis didn't seem to have any problem understanding his little brother.<p>

"Special occasion?" The sales assistant asked politely.

"Uh, yeah," Cal answered absently, watching as the boys approached. Owen rushed to his father again. "What do you think?" He asked. "Do you like?" He pointed to his forehead, then signed 'like'.

Owen nodded. "Like the elfs shoes."

"Yeah buddy," Cal turned him and pulled him to his lap.

"I leave them on."

"You can't. You have to take them off to pay," Lewis informed him, taking a seat next to his father. He ran his index finger along the length of his palm so it flicked towards his brother at the end.

"Oh you can leave them on," the assistant spoke up again. "I just need the right shoe for the bar code and to take the security tag off." He knelt down in front of Owen, who leaned back against a chair, and lifted the boy's right foot.

"My granddad died," Owen blurted suddenly.

The sales assistant looked up surprised, halting in undoing the laces.

"Owen," Cal murmured, putting his arm around the boy in a warning to say... well Cal wasn't going to tell him not to say anything more or warn him to censor his mouth but... the little nudge was enough to _imply_ both. He could explain later that that kind of thing sometimes made other people feel uncomfortable. Not that that would stop Owen from yammering on if he felt so inclined, nor would Cal _actually_ shush him.

Owen turned his head to look up at his father and Cal met his eye. The boy looked curious, as if he were asking whether it wasn't true. The sales assistant slipped the shoe off Owen's foot and got up, heading to the desk. "You stay here with Lew all right?" Cal directed. "While I go pay."

"Ok," Owen agreed amiably.

"Lew," Cal got up. "Can you get the old shoes in the bag please?" He mimicked holding a bag handle.

The sales assistant didn't quite meet Cal's eye as he handed over his credit card; cash for Lewis because he liked to act like a big boy. Cal paid and the security tag was taken off. The sales assistant told him to have a good day and Cal thanked him for his help. He headed back to where the boys were gathering their things together. Lewis was holding the bag for Owen to drop his last shoe in. He signed 'good'.

Cal sat down and called Owen over to sit next to him. Lewis stood nearby. "What did Mum tell you about Granddad?" Cal asked as he pushed Owen's shoe back on his foot.

"She said Granddad was dead," Lewis answered. Cal looked up to his elder son.

"Do you undastand what that means?" He brought his hand to his forehead and as he moved it away he extended his index finger a little.

Lewis nodded. Owen shook his head, then saw his brother, and nodded as well. Cal pulled Owen's laces tight.

"It means that Granddad isn't here anymore," Lewis offered, shaking his head and perching on the edge of the cushioned chair next to his father.

"He's gone away," Owen offered.

"Yeah," Cal agreed, making a loop and binding the knot. "And you know he's not going to come back?" Ok, whoa, he should really not be having this conversation in the middle of a shoe store. But Gillian had had this conversation with their boys without him there and he wanted to know what had been discussed. Gillian had a tendency to gloss, to sugar coat, which Cal felt was at the detriment of the information. Cal would have told them straight. The point was, he had no idea what his wife had told his children because she was cutting him out. And yes, he was angry about it.

"He's gone forever," Owen added.

"Yeah," Cal agreed and then let it go. He finished with Owen's shoe and made sure the boys had gathered together everything of theirs. He let Owen carry the box his shoes were meant to be in and called over his shoulder to the young man who had served them, thanking him again, saying goodbye. Maybe Cal could talk to the boys in the car, but he suspected the moment had passed. It wasn't something he wanted to push, or discuss overly extensively. It was going to be tough enough tomorrow, not to mention emotional...

As the boys moved ahead of their father, Owen reached for Lewis's hand and Cal saw the big brother squeeze back.


	58. Chapter 58

Gillian closed her eyes as she lay in bed and listened to the sound of the water running in the en suite bathroom. Cal was having a shower to warm up, having been caught in a downpour on his way home. The boys were playing in their room and every so often Gillian could hear one of them calling out enthusiastically. She loved that they were so good with each other. Owen learnt more signs from his big brother than he did his parents. And Lewis relished the fact he had a little admirer. Although, Gillian supposed, the puppy dog attentiveness would probably get annoying as Lewis got older. That's when their age gap would get more noticeable.

Gillian tilted her head to the side, getting more comfortable. Through the door she could hear Cal singing to himself, though she couldn't hear the words and it made her smile. It had been a tough week, with her father's death and then their argument. Fight. It had been a fight and it was so rare for them to have one that Gillian was still a little worried about it. Granted, they had been talking too, a lot, about lots of different things that had maybe slipped under the radar after being married nearly ten years. (Geeze, next year it would be ten years!)

Mostly it was Gillian stuff, things she hadn't noticed about herself until something came up to throw it back in her face. She was paying attention now. This was the kind of stuff that had collapsed her first marriage but had been buried under Alec's addiction and then again, under IVF, Cal's abduction, Lily, Cal's accident. She hadn't worked on herself in a long time. That's how things like New York happened. But it was ok because she wanted to. She wanted to keep her marriage the best it could be. If she wanted to go back to counselling she was going to have to work on herself.

Gillian heard a giggle and a whispered 'shh' and realised she was not alone. She heard Lewis give a slight grunt and then the weight of a small body on the bed. She felt the little person crawl up towards her and Lewis's hand on her shoulder. Owen was patting her face as Lewis asked her if she was awake.

Keeping her eyes closed, Gillian responded: "Yes I'm awake." And then she brought up her arms to tickle the weight practically sitting on her chest. Owen screeched and laughed and wiggled to get away from her, legs kicking and hands clawing. She worked her fingers around his neck and into his sides. He rolled away from her and was finally out of reach. Gillian turned to Lewis, who was still standing beside the bed, grinning. "What about you?" She pointed to him. "Do you need tickles too?" She wiggled her fingers at him. Lewis shook his head. "How about you climb up and have a cuddle?" Gillian suggested instead, signing 'hug'. Lewis nodded and pulled himself up to the bed and Gillian reached to give Owen another quick dose just to keep him catatonic for a moment longer, before he tried to worm into Lewis's hug. Lewis was incredibly patient with his younger brother too, was that mentioned?

Lewis lay down on top of his mother and she wrapped her arms around him. He turned his head but didn't press his ear against her chest; his hearing aid would dig in and hurt them both. Gillian smoothed her hand up and down his back and she felt him sigh. In the bathroom Cal sang a few more lines. Owen sat himself up, red in the face, and still catching his breath. "That's Daddy."

"Yeah," Gillian murmured.

Lewis lifted his head to turn it the other way, to face his brother, so he could see what they were talking about. Owen giggled. "That's Daddy singing." His eyes glittered with amusement. Suddenly the shower stopped. "Oh," Owen looked at his mother surprised, as if he were worried his father had heard him.

"Dad's finished with the shower," Gillian noted.

"Mum?"

"Yeah Lewis?"

He turned is head to look at her, his chin resting on her sternum. "Do you miss your dad?"

Gillian watched his blue eyes for a moment. The weight of him against her body was grounding. She gave him a slight squeeze. "Yes."

Lewis looked up at her, seemingly agreeing, or sympathising with just his eyes. It made her lean forward to kiss his forehead. She was going to miss having cuddles like this with him. Soon he would be too big; physically and mentally.

"Owen quick," Lewis whispered to the three year old. "Let's pretend we're asleep and see if Dad notices us." He used 'hurry' and 'asleep' and 'pretend'.

"Oh!" Owen's eyes went wide. He turned himself awkwardly on the bed and lay down. The wee guy was half Gillian's height and he looked comical lying so straight and so still. Seriously, could he be more obvious.

"You too Mum," Lewis told her.

She closed her eyes obediently and felt Lewis's head settle against her heart again. She cracked an eye to check and yes, he had his eyes closed, but his 'pretending to be asleep' face was much more relaxed and natural compared to Owen's, whose eyes were all scrunched up. She suppressed a laugh, which would only clue Lewis into the fact that she was sneaking looks. The bathroom door opened suddenly and Gillian felt Owen flinch against her. Lewis kept perfectly still; Gillian was sure he was holding his breath.

"Aye aye," Cal noted softly. "What do we have here?" Gillian bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. "It looks like everyone is asleep," Cal went on. She heard a drawer slide open carefully and the rustle of material against skin. Then silence and she waited and then Cal's weight jumped on the bed, jostling all of them.

"Ah!" Owen cried out and erupted into giggles. Gillian opened her eyes to see Cal inflicting more tickle torture on the boy, naked torso, inked right arm, towel wrapped around his waist, hair sticking up at sexy angles. Lewis laughed and pushed away from his mother, accidentally grabbing a fistful of her breast that made her push his hand away quickly. Lewis launched himself at his father's back.

"Attacked from behind!" Cal crowed. "It was an ambush!" He pulled Lewis around his body, on the side opposite to Owen who was still rolling around and screaming, red in the face again, breathless. Lewis got his fair share of torture and then Owen again and then Cal looked over at Gillian who had curled up on her side so she could protect herself from stray feet. "What about you? Were you involved in this deception?"

"Oh please," Gillian sighed. "I'm far more subtle and devious and seductive than that."

"Too right," Cal gave her an openly brazen expression.

"Get him!" Lewis cried and launched a new attack. Owen got himself to his hands and knees, then threw himself at their father a second later.

"Oi!" Cal hollered, falling back against the bed. "Ow! Pinchin'!" He captured Owen's fingers quickly, dwarfing them with his own.

"Tickles for Dad!" Lewis declared. Gillian thought she might get in on that if only Cal were ticklish. If only the returning punishment wasn't so harsh, as it was bound to be. Owen let out a squeal as he tried to get closer to Cal again. Cal tucked Owen under one arm and sat up. Lewis hung off his other arm and Gillian was glad they were a lot gentler with her; she could see red marks on Cal's toned chest where one of the boys and knocked against his skin. Cal stood with Owen still under his arm. "Look!" Lewis cried out, laughing. "Dad's got no clothes on!"

The towel had slipped away completely but at least he had underwear on.

"Nudy! Nudy!" Owen chanted from behind his father's back, as he was held like a rugby ball, slapping his hands against his father's backside.

Cal turned towards the bed where Lewis was sitting on his crossed ankles, joining in the chant. "I've got undawear on," he pointed out.

"Nudy! Rudy!" Lewis called louder.

"Right, that's it," Cal grabbed Owen's legs and pulled him around his body, then threw him to the mattress. He proceeded to tickle him harder than before, periodically reaching out to get Lewis too. "Little smart arses," Cal murmured. "The tickle monsta will get you both!"


	59. Chapter 59

Cal sat himself at the dining room table and let out a groan. From the kitchen, Gillian gave him a slight smile while she finished setting up dinner to go ahead and start cooking. Cal had already complained his feet were killing him when he had come in. Too much running around today. Lewis approached with a school book in one hand, pressed up against his chest; in the other was a pencil, also against his chest. "Dad?" He asked politely.

"Yes my darlin'?" Cal turned to the seven year old.

"Will you help me with my homework?" He signed an awkward 'help' while still trying to hold on to his book and pencil.

"Of course buddy, climb up here with me," Cal pushed out the chair next to the head of the table. Lewis put his book on the table and levered himself up into the seat. Cal opened the book and flicked over the pages of messy handwriting to where the next assignment had been glued in on a fresh section. "Tell me about your homework," Cal requested, while quickly scanning the page.

"We have to draw about the rain cycle," Lewis informed him, leaning over his book, his hand signing 'picture' and 'rain'.

'_All right_,' Cal thought. '_Easy enough_.'

"What do you know about the rain cycle?" Calk asked aloud wiggling his fingers from up by his face down to his chest, mimicking rain falling. "Are you learnin' about it in class?" He spread his fingers on top of his left hand like a tepee and then grouped them together while bringing them up to his forehead to press against his skin, keeping his wrist above his fingers the whole time.

Lewis shook his head 'no'.

"All right. Let's talk about it, and then when you undastand it, you can draw a picture all right?" He used 'talk' and 'picture'.

Lewis nodded.

"So," Cal started. "Where does the rain come from?" He curled his fingers up and moved them back and forth a little.

"The clouds." Lewis made a gesture like he was holding a large ball in front of him.

"Yeah the clouds. And what is rain made from?"

Lewis thought for a moment, probably thinking it was a trick question. "Water?" He made a 'W' hand shape.

"Yeah water," Cal confirmed. "So how does the water get into the clouds?" He signed 'water' then 'up' and 'cloud'.

"Hm," Lewis mused. He sat for a while. "I don't know," he looked up at his father.

'_Well at least he didn't say it flew_.'

"Hang on. Get some scrap pape-a so we can write some ideas down." He mimicked writing.

Lewis swivelled his legs to the side, jumped down and headed for the pantry where there was paper kept that he could draw on or use for whatever he felt the need.

'_Or say God put it there_,' Cal finished in his head.

Gillian put their dinner in the oven and brushed her hand over Lewis's hair as he went by with his paper in hand. She and Cal both heard Owen on the baby monitor so she set the timer quickly and headed up to get him. Lewis climbed back onto his chair, slamming the paper down for his father against the table top.

"All right," Cal took the pencil and the paper and pulled them closer towards him. He used Lewis's school book to lean on. "So we've got clouds up here," he drew a fluffy one at the top of the paper, in the centre. "And we've got warta in there," he drew a tear drop. "So we have to figure out how the warta got up there right?" Cal drew a big arrow from the left of the page, from the middle, pointing up to the cloud. Lewis nodded. "So let's look at this side," Cal pointed to the other side of the cloud with the pencil and Lewis leaned in, then looked up at his father. "How does the warta get _out_ of the clouds?" He moved his right hand out of the grasp of his left and away to the right a little bit.

"It rains," Lewis supplied easily, wiggling his fingers as he moved them down.

"Sure does," Cal drew another curving arrow downwards, to half way down the page, then drew lots of little rain drops. "Then where does the rain go?"

"Uhm," Lewis mused. "Into the ground?" He rubbed his finger tips against each other with the fingers pointing downward.

"Sure," Cal agreed. "Where else would it go?" Lewis's gaze went to the page but his face looked a little blank. "What else do we have on the planet besides the ground?" Cal prompted. Lots of 'wh' gestures.

"The sea?" He signed 'water' then waved both hands like gentle waves away from his body.

"Yeah," Cal agreed with a smile, impressed. "The oceans. What else is like the oceans?"

"Lakes?" He used 'water' again and then opened his hands wide as if indicating a large volume of water, his index finger and thumb extended from the rest of his grouped fingers.

"Yes! Very good!" Cal enthused. He drew another arrow curving further down to the bottom of the circle he was making, right in the centre of the page. He drew something like a big puddle. "What about riva's?" Cal also suggested. Lewis nodded his agreement and Cal added one to the side of his 'sea' and explained that the rivers fed lakes and oceans so they were part of the cycle too. "All right. So we've got most of the circle," Cal showed Lewis, who agreed. "So now we have to get the warta from here," he pointed to his puddle with his right hand while make a 'W' by his mouth. "To here," he tapped the cloud at the top of the page with the pencil.

Gillian came back in with a red cheeked Owen, who had grasped a fist full of her shirt. "Hi Owen," Cal waved 'hello' to him.

"Eh," Owen responded. He tapped at his mother and whined, "Mama."

"Yeah I know," Gillian spoke softly to him. "You're hungry." She made a 'C' hand against her chest and drew it down to her stomach. "It's dinner time." She sat at the table, next to Lewis and turned Owen on to his back. He struggled against her, not liking the angle until she opened her shirt and settled him properly. Lewis watched her for a moment and then turned back to the page. Owen was in the process of being weaned. He'd have the rest of his dinner with them when it was ready.

"What happens when we heat warta up Lew?" Cal reengaged. He could see Gillian stroking the back of Owen's blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

Lewis gave him a thoughtful expression. "It gets a mist." He didn't sign the word because he didn't know it.

"Yeah," Cal nodded, encouraging. "It becomes steam. And where does the steam go?"

"It goes up," Lewis simulated the action by raising his hands.

Cal waited a second to see if the boy would click and after a moment he did. "Oh!" His eyes went wider. "It goes up into the clouds?"

"Well, maybe not the steam we make by the hot showa or when we boil warta, but the ocean's and riva's and lakes do." He signed the main nouns.

"Oh," Lewis repeated, blinking a few times, processing.

"But," Cal cut in, finger spelling the word. "How do the lakes and oceans and rivas heat up to make steam?" Lewis looked confused again. "Do we get a big stove with a pot on it?" 'Pot' was making a curved 'bowl' shape with both hands.

Lewis laughed. "No."

Cal smiled. "No that'd be a bit tricky huh?" He used 'difficult'.

"Ow!" Gillian complained pulling Owen back from her breast. "No biting me!" Owen looked completely unapologetic but she let him back for his pre-dinner snack.

"What's outside that's warm all the time?" Cal brought Lewis's attention back to him. 'Warm' was an 'O' hand by the mouth that then moved out and the fingers opened up as well.

"The sun?" Lewis tried dubiously. Using an 'O' hand up to the right of his head and moving it in a slight circle.

"Yeah the sun," Cal agreed. "The sun heats up the warta and it turns into steam that we can't see and it rises up and makes clouds and then eventually, when the clouds get enough warta in them, it rains." He drew a sun in the gap and more arrows to connect all the points together and turned it to show Lewis. "And _that_ is the rain cycle."

"Right," Gillian grumped pulling Owen away from her chest and sitting him up. "If you're going to bite, you're not getting any." Owen gave her a disgruntled squeal. "I know you're teeth hurt," Gillian conceded, re-dressing expertly with one hand. "But that still doesn't mean you can bite," she finished, annoyed. Owen was heading towards cold turkey really quickly.

"I copy this Dad?" He mimicked placing something into his left open palm.

"Yeah you can copy that into your book," Cal answered Lewis. He held out his hands to take Owen and Gillian handed him off, getting up again to check on dinner. Gillian gave Cal a nod from the kitchen while he manhandled the wriggling seventeen month old. Cal leaned forward to place his hand over Lewis's book. He looked up. "But afta dinna." He used 'across' which was hard to sign when he was trying to also hold onto his toddler. "First, you have to set the table." 'Establish' and 'table' both required two hands so Cal relied on the fact that Lewis was looking up at him. He got up to put Owen in his high chair and dragged it over to where he was sitting. Lewis put his homework together at the end of the table, then put out the place mats and went to get knives and forks. Gillian gave Cal a bowl with pieces of the vegetable and chicken lasagne, already broken apart and cooling for Owen. Cal blew on a piece of chicken heavily as Lewis brought over utensils. He checked the heat against his bottom lip and went back to blowing on it while Owen called out and made grabbing hands at him. "It's hot," Cal told him, making an 'O' hand by his mouth then moving it away and opening the fingers.

Lewis brought over plates, one at a time. Gillian carried over the lasagne and went back for a serving spatula and a sharper knife. Cal checked the chicken again and gave it to Owen as Gillian served up. When she was seated Cal looked down at his plate and the cheesy topping. The smell was incredible and he felt his mouth salivate with the thought of the taste; did he mention it had been a long day? "This looks fantastic," Cal told his wife. She gave him a smile of acknowledgement.

"Yeah Mum this is yummy," Lewis agreed giving her a big thumbs up and a grin.

"Ah! Ah! Ummy," Owen added waving a hand in the air.


	60. Chapter 60

Gillian bit into the red apple. It was a little tangy against her tongue. Cal had bought these ones and he liked them sharp, with that bite, not overly sweet. Next time, she was going to get to the shopping first. The boys didn't seem to mind though either way. They were munching away quite happily while they had some afternoon television time. Gillian watched them for a moment but aside from the perfunctory 'hello' as she had picked them up from school, she was pretty much dismissed now. That's what happened with a nine-year-old and an influential five-year-old.

Gillian headed across the hall to the 'big' person lounge where the desk lived from their old home, that had, until now, no purpose but to store crap in its drawers while it hid in the corner collecting dust and occasionally, something Cal felt the need to put there. Give him a surface and he found something to fill it up with. Sometimes it was CD's or books he hadn't put away but once she found washing and god only knows what he was doing with it in there...

Now, it was hers again. She had moved her laptop in, paper and pens and because she was a girl, a photo of her family. Like she didn't have enough of those around the place. She had wiped away the dust and cleared out the drawers and now she had a place to work when she got home from work. Her new work. She was back to therapy or counselling or whatever anyone wanted to call it. The point was, she was seeing patients again and helping people and it felt good. Even if she only had one patient at the moment...

Gillian opened her patient file and flipped it open to the notes she had taken during that day's session. She had just one patient to ease her back into it. She'd spent the last few weeks reading up and getting ready. She had been nervous but a big hug from her boys helped and actually getting on with it did even more. Next week she'd get another new patient... and then she could build a client database. It was exciting!

Gillian finished her snack and worked for half an hour filling out her notes to give her a better picture of what was discussed during the first session. That way, when she came back to the notes next week for session number two, she would remember what had gone on. She was only working two days a week. That was the idea anyway. With one patient she was probably going to be down at the Lightman Group more than she had planned; Cal would be thrilled. At least until she got a client base going.

She was so day dreaming!

Gillian focussed again to finish up her notes. Then she should start dinner for her kids and husband. The boys had been pretty quiet in the other room. She could hear the muffled noise of the television.

"Aye, aye," Cal greeted her and she turned her head sharply, surprised. He gave her a grin as he sauntered across the room. "That's a good look for you luv."

"What's that?" She gave him a smile.

He approached and waved a finger by her face. "The glasses."

Gillian pulled them off, "oh."

"No leave them on," Cal told her. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

"Maybe later," Gillian smirked.

Cal grinned and leaned against the edge of her desk. "So how was it?"

Gillian stared up at him for a moment.

"Your first day?" He prompted.

"Oh right," she tossed the pen in her hand to the papers she was working on and leaned back in her chair, stretching her hands behind her head. "It was good."

"That's also a good look," Cal noted.

"Stop it you," she straightened up in her seat again, a little embarrassed. "You're insatiable."

"That's your fault," he gave her a leering grin. "I'm glad it was all right."

Gillian had to take a moment to remember what he meant by that, remember their serious conversation, and smiled. She reached for her pen again, preparing to finish her notes.

"Thought about callin' you but didn't want to disturb."

"That's sweet," she gave him a rewarding smile.

"Boys watchin' TV?"

"Yeah."

"Guess what happened to Loke-a today?"

"Can you give me five minutes to finish this? And then you can tell me all about it."

"Gettin' the brush off from my own wife," Cal muttered. Gillian opened her mouth to explain that she _was_ interested but was _nearly_ finished and then she would be all his but Cal stood up. "I'll make a start on dinna then. Before the natives get restless." He leaned down and gave her another kiss, a warm palm against the side of her neck, familiar and possessive but grounding and comforting.

"Hmm," Gillian hummed, pleased, when his lips lingered just a little bit longer than necessary. Cal's fingers brushed against her skin as he started to walk away and she felt a shiver ripple through her as she watched him go; a very nice view. Oh dammit now she was thinking about _him_. She could hear the rumble of his voice through the wall and figured he was yelling to tell the boys to turn the TV down, or was just letting them know that he was home now. Gillian finished up the last of her notes quickly, her handwriting neat on the yellow legal pad. She shredded the old sheet and tucked the new, fresh notes into the folder. Then she got up and headed for the kitchen.


	61. Chapter 61

Gillian let the boys have dinner together. It was getting late and Lewis complained about being hungry if he wasn't fed on a regular schedule. Gillian was going to wait for her husband though. He had text to say he was going to be late. Eight month old Owen was just starting out on solids (or was he six months? She still couldn't figure the adjusted age without counting off the markers on her fingers) so he was in the highchair having pureed pumpkin and Lewis was munching back fish fingers and a side salad. He ate what he considered to be 'yucky' first, the salad, then picked at the batter on his fish with his fingers, despite being told not to a few times; then he could eat the fish. Although when Gillian asked him why he wanted to pick the batter off he said it was 'yummy' which defied his earlier logic of eating the yucky salad first.

Gillian gave Owen another mouthful of pumpkin, which he kind of mushed around his mouth, pushing it out and sucking it back in. The phone rang and Gillian got up. Lewis watched her go and Owen cried out and waved his arms. "I'll just bit a minute," she told him, giving him the spoon.

"It's me," Cal indentified himself.

"Hi me," Gillian responded warmly. This could be the warning he was on his way. Like she needed warning... Actually, it was nice to know where he was.

"I'm gonna be anotha half hour I think."

"I'm starving!" Gillian complained lightly.

"Go," Cal started.

"I'm kidding," Gillian cut him off. "I'll wait for you."

"You're waitin'?"

"Yes."

"That's sweet, but you don't have to."

"Well I had a fish finger so I'm good for at least another half hour."

Cal chuckled. "All right. The munchkin's eatin' then?"

"Oh yeah, there was no way he was going to wait for you. Owen's having pumpkin."

"Ugh then you are so changin' his nappy in the mornin'."

Gillian laughed this time. How sucked in was she? Joking about dinner and diapers on the phone with her husband while feeling all warm inside because he called her like she was back in college and the boy she liked bothered to notice her? "Half an hour then?"

"I'll take the blatant change in subject as your agreement on the matta. And yep half an hour-ish should do it provided... nope, make it forty-five for traffic."

"Where are you?" Gillian asked curiously. She heard Owen cry out behind her. She should really wrap this up and get back to giving him his dinner.

"Virginia. But don't worry. I'm within spittin' distance of DC."

They said goodbye and hung up and Gillian put the phone back in its cradle on the breakfast bar. When she turned around she found Lewis standing on his chair and she was on the verge of telling him off when she realised what he was doing. He was talking to Owen, signing 'eat' at him and in his left hand was the spoon, held flat, with pumpkin on it, approaching Owen's mouth. The baby opened up for his big brother who carefully, with great concentration, put the spoon in. Owen closed his mouth around the spoon and gave a pleased smile. "Very good," Lewis told him, giving a 'thumbs up' with his right hand. He pulled the spoon out slowly again, tipping it up awkwardly like Gillian did so the pumpkin would get brushed off the utensil against the edge of Owen's gum. "Good work Wen," Lewis put the spoon back in Owen's bowl on the table and sat down again at his own plate, picking up a piece of fish with his hands. Gillian didn't even have the heart to tell him off for not using his fork, she was so surprised and pleased and other indescribable feelings like proud and warm and love.

"Aaaaah ah!" Owen called out, waving an arm again.

Gillian remained rooted to the spot, watching with interest and delight, as Lewis got to his feet again. "More?" He asked, making the sign. He took Owen's hand and pushed his fingers into a fist. Then he bobbed it up and down mimicking a 'yes' sign, holding on to his baby brother's hand. "You say yes," Lewis told him. Then he reached for the spoon and got more pumpkin and they went through the same careful and deliberate process.

Gillian felt tears well up in her eyes. Seriously, she must be incredibly emotional at the moment or something because that was just too damn cute and sweet and endearing and... She _loved_ that Lewis was finally falling into his role as a big brother. Not that he hadn't tried but it had been difficult when Owen finally came home and then the apnoea spells and Lewis starting school and not, it just felt like everything had been crazy but was falling into place. It felt like they were carving out their normal. Now where was the camera?


	62. Chapter 62

"Yeah right," Ria grinned.

"Why is everyone pickin' on me?" Cal asked good-naturedly and turned to Gillian, as if she were the ringleader, when really, she was just sitting in the back laughing. Which wasn't _really_ helping...

"Because you're the oldest," Eli responded, rocking his chair back and forth, left to right, with his ankles crossed next to his computer keyboard.

"Oi. Cheekiness from you," he pointed to Ria with his pen. "And you," he jabbed it at Eli. "Just rememba who signs your paycheques."

"That would be me," Gillian finally spoke up.

"Oh so you're on their side?" Cal turned to her again, waving the pen in a slight circle around her face, as Ria's phone rang. Still laughing, she put her paperwork down and answered it.

"Aw, it's tough when everyone's ganging up on you huh?" Gillian teased.

"It's bad enough at home," Cal went on with a whine.

"What!" Ria's soft exclamation cut through the air swiftly even though she didn't raise her voice. Cal and Gillian fell silent abruptly, turning their heads to look at her; Eli straightened up in his chair, putting both feet back on the ground. Ria looked stone-still shocked. She stood and the phone fell from her hands and she crumpled.

Cal was across the room before any of them, catching her, lowering her to the floor gently. He had started moving as soon as she had uttered the word, sensing something was very wrong. "What happened darlin'?" He asked gently. Eli approached with a bottle of water while Gillian reached for the woman's phone. There was someone still on the line.

"Hello?" Gillian answered.

"Mrs Dupree?"

"No this is Gillian Lightman a colleague of Ria's. What's going on?"

"He's gone, he's gone, he's gone," Ria suddenly wailed, rocking back and forth against Cal's chest where they were sitting awkwardly on the floor. She stared blankly at the carpet. Eli looked up at Gillian, scared and confused; Cal pulled her against him.

"Tell me what's happened," Gillian demanded into the phone.

**PJ**

"How is she?" Cal started as he met Gillian in the hallway just outside of her office. "I mean she's not. But..."

"She's resting for now," Gillian finished for him. "And she's calmed down."

"I can't believe he's gone."

"Me either," Gillian sighed. It felt unreal. But then every phone call like that, out of the blue, did. It would take a few days to really come to terms with the fact that Ria's husband had died.

"Has she said anythin'?" Cal lowered his voice as if Ria could hear them. But she was lying down on Gillian's couch, holding a wad of tissues, staring vacantly across the room; calm for now after a veritable meltdown.

"Not much. She asked me if it was real."

"Geeze," Cal ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath between his lips. Gillian could see a damp patch under his arm and knew he was stressed. But she also knew he was big enough to take care of himself and for once this disaster didn't involve them. She suddenly wanted to hold him, to feel him solid and tangible against her. "I got hold of Ajay. He went to get Owen and Lew. Had to field two phone calls from day care and the school to get them to release the boys to his custody. He's gonna take them home."

"Good," Gillian felt a small pocket of tension release. That was one less thing to worry about. At least for now. "I called Karl's sister."

"Oh?"

"I didn't know who else... I'm not entirely sure of Ria's family situation."

"Changes around," Cal muttered.

"Chondra's going to come in and..." Well, Gillian hadn't got that far. She'd had to break the news of Karl's death to his sister on the phone and while she had been shocked, she held up better than Ria had on receiving the information. Not that Gillian blamed her. Not one bit. That was her husband. Gillian knew exactly what it was like to get that kind of information. Not the same, but similar.

"All right so..." Cal looked to his wife again, the question silent. So was the building. While Gillian had been in crises control with Ria, Cal and Eli had been dealing with everyone and everything else. Their staff with their questions about what happened and the few open cases they had been working on as a team; all of a sudden they weren't as important. Gillian looked back to Cal. She wasn't actually really sure what to do but she knew she had to be there for her friend.

"Hello?"

Cal turned and Gillian looked over his shoulder. An African-American woman in her late thirties to early forties was hesitant. Cal stepped towards her, Gillian falling in just slightly behind him. "Come in. You're Chondra?" Cal greeted gently. She nodded.

"I'm Gillian," she stepped forward and the woman looked relieved.

"Terribly sorry for you loss," Cal offered on a mumble.

"Thank you," the woman offered shakily, not sure which of them she should look at. "It was such a shock. How is Ria holding up?"

Gillian took Chondra by the shoulder, gently leading. "She's resting in my office. I'll take you to her."

"I just don't know," Chondra went on. Gillian shot Cal a look behind over the other woman's shoulder. "How she's going to get through this."

Cal raised an eyebrow.

"Can Ria stay with you for a while?" Gillian asked politely.

"Oh yes of course. She's family. We're all worried about her. Mama is of course, so upset."

Well that was something, Cal thought to himself. At least there was someone close to Ria that would take care of her. He knew Gillian would take her in if they had to but he also knew she was thinking about their children. The boys were compassionate but it was still an imposition. They had to put their family first. Ria would understand that. Not that Gillian would like palming her friend off on to someone else, Cal could see that too.

**PJ**

Gillian came back into the building and Cal was waiting, just where she had left him. "She's in shock," Gillian informed him, striding past. "I'm going to go around there."

Cal jogged a few quick steps to keep up with her. "Do you even know where Chondra lives?"

Gillian waved a piece of paper in answer. Cal snatched it out of her hand. She protested lightly and kept walking, entering her office. Cal checked the address. It was in Maryland. Deep into Maryland. He followed his wife into her office. She was gathering her purse together, reaching for her coat. "Gill," he started, putting the paper in his pocket. "Darlin'," he approached. "I know you wanna be there for Ria."

"I have to," Gillian countered.

"No you don't," Cal started.

"Yes I do. You don't understand. What it's like to get one of those phone calls?" She stopped to look him in the eye, to make her point. Cal felt something close around his throat, making it harder to breathe. "It's, you can't even," Gillian stuttered. She looked away again. "I won't leave her to deal with this alone."

"I undastand that," Cal tried again, his throat still feeling tight with guilt. "But she's in shock. She just needs... You can't say anythin' that will get through to her right now." He stepped towards her and she put up a hand by her hip to absently stop him, which hurt, but he ignored it. She wasn't rejecting him, she just didn't want to be dissuaded. "Come home with me. The boys need to know where we are." Emily had finally called her father back and he had quickly explained that her husband was actually babysitting. So she had gone around to support him. Or take over.

Gillian hesitated and looked to the side, not quite at him. He had struck a nerve. This was the second death in their orbit and now would be the right time to have both parents at home. Especially because Cal wasn't entirely sure they'd dealt with the first one very well. "Just come and spend some time with our kids. We'll have dinna togetha. And then you can call Chondra and check up on Ria," Cal told her gently, pushing in closer. "Start ova tomorrow." He dared to put his arms around her. This close he could see she was shaken up. This was probably pushing all her buttons about now. He wanted to tell her that he was right there, but the hug should suffice, if he let it sink in. She relaxed against him suddenly, resting her chin on his shoulder. There it was. She realised what he was saying. He was reminding her that this time, it wasn't her.

"Ok," she agreed on a murmur.


	63. Chapter 63

In the weirdest way, Cal was able to put Gillian in Ria's shoes and view what had happened to him during his accident by observing this tragedy before him. Except, and this made him feel unsettled and flighty inside, who was it that had picked up the pieces for Gillian? He couldn't think of anyone and she had never intimated that there had been someone who called to check up on her, who came around with meals, who told her she didn't have to come in to work, who let her cry on their shoulder. Gillian had those little white pills she had never taken and Casey, who had been good for a few phone calls, and her family had attempted to help her out. But as far as Cal could deduce, it had all been sporadic and she had dealt with the worst of every day by herself.

But then there was Lewis and Gillian talked about having to keep going for their son's sake and so maybe Cal could concede that. So then who did Ria have? Considering he had made himself a solitary person, Cal realised now he spent a lot of time thinking about these kinds of things, that networks of people seemed like a good idea. It was fine being so caught up in his wife and family but if they were gone he'd be screwed. Well he wouldn't because he had Emily but I warranted some thought. Mostly, it was because, on some level, he felt he had let Gillian down by not being around. It wasn't his fault but still... How much worse would it have been if it were not for Lewis?

Gillian was spending a lot of time with Ria. And Cal would get up-date reports at the end of the day. Eli was making an effort to see her too and Cal knew other people from work were making their support known. Cal was always so shit at those things and the first time he'd gone to see her with Gillian and she was in a baggy sweat-shirt that was obviously Karl's, eyes red, hair a mess, the curtains drawn, Cal had almost backed out the door immediately. He didn't deal with death and depression well at all. Especially not when it was so close to home.

**PJ**

Cal fully believed he had a sixth sense about where Gillian was at any given time of day. He could call when she just got through the door, home or work. When she was pregnant, he could call just after she had woken up from a nap. He just seemed to know. And he could tell when she was about to arrive at work, without having to check the security cameras or listen out for her voice. He got up from his desk, having that feeling that she was nearby, and as he went out into the corridor he was right. She came around the corner, coat over her arm, purse slung over her shoulder. She seemed surprised to see Cal there. He gave her a smile in greeting.

"Hi," she responded, smiling as well, though it was not as genuine as it could be. She brushed past him and he followed her to her office.

"How is she?"

"She's," Gillian sighed, knowing exactly who he was asking after. It had been a few days since the initial news has gone come through about Karl. She put her purse down. "I talked her into having a shower today so that's something. She seems to be coping ok considering."

"You seem... untrusting of that."

"I know she's strong," Gillian turned to hang up her coat. "And I know she deals with things very well."

"But you still expected her to fall apart?" Cal finished, leaning his hip against the edge of her desk. Gillian looked hesitant. "Can't compare her to you."

She gave him an unimpressed expression. "That's not what I meant. Anyone would fall apart if their husband was suddenly shot and died." She paused to take a breath and regain her composure. "I'm just not entirely sure how to help her."

Cal raised a hand to her arm, giving her elbow a squeeze. "You're askin' the wrong man for help."

She attempted a smile.

"Follow your instincts. They're usually right luv. I know you'll find the best way to help her even if it's merely sittin' in the room in silence."

Gillian gave a short nod. "Okay."

"Ok," Cal agreed. He gave her a quick hug, because it helped him as much as it helped her. "You'll work it out," he told her over her shoulder. "You're good at this."

**PJ**

"I expected to be bawling my eyes out every two minutes."

Gillian looked over at the younger woman. She did have a wad of tissues in her hand but she seemed to just get a bit weepy when Gillian showed up. The tears always dried up quickly. The house was in order again, the curtains open, the smell of cleaning products in the air. Ria had showered and changed her clothes. She had washed and brushed her hair. She was obviously piecing her life back together and Gillian had to admit, it made her a little uneasy because she expected complete chaos.

"We talked about it some. If he got killed doing his job. Maybe that helped?" Ria's dark eyes looked over at Gillian in the arm chair for a second, as if checking she were still in the room.

"Maybe," Gillian agreed. "Preparing for the unexpected takes away some of the sting."

"We were talking about having kids," Ria added. "And now we won't have that," she finished lamely in a small voice.

Gillian sat quietly. This was what she had come to expect. So she just let Ria talk it out if she needed to. Besides, what was she going to add to that statement? _Thank God Cal and I had a kid before_...

"That really... That he doesn't have a legacy. You know?" Ria looked over at her again, testing the thought.

Gillian nodded. "I understand what you mean."

"I still half expect him to come home," Ria mused.

Gillian knew all too well what that felt like.

They sat in silence for a moment. Listening to traffic on the street, the chirp of birds in the tress; reminding themselves that life went on, even when it felt inside that the world should stop out of respect.

"You don't have to stay," Ria suddenly spoke again.

"I'm here as long as you want me to be," Gillian countered.

"You have your kids."

"Cal has them. It's not a problem. Unless you would like me to leave?" Gillian joked lightly.

"No," Ria answered quietly. "It's nice to just not be alone." And she looked over to the wall again, thinking.

Gillian sat back in her chair, her eyes glancing constantly to the wedding photo on the bookshelf. It could have been her. Five years ago, it could have been her.

**PJ**

"My granddad died," Owen told Ria, tilting his head back to look up at her.

"I know," she told him softly. "That's really sad."

Owen had on his funeral clothes and Cal was sorry to say, the kid was getting some use out of those shoes too; his 'elf' shoes. Cal put a hand on the four-year-olds shoulder in warning, pulling him back gently. "Owen," he started. He was going to have to explain that death was on that list of things that other people didn't like to talk about much and if he wanted to do so then he should talk to Mum or Dad about it.

"It's ok," Ria told Cal. She crouched down to Owen's level. "Were you sad about your granddad?"

Owen nodded, although he didn't cry at the funeral of his grandfather. He seemed more interested in the proceedings; the strange ritual he had not experienced before. Lewis _did_ cry a bit. Especially when his mother cried. Cal figured he understood a lot more of what was going on around him. That seemed true for many things. Lewis was often watching and taking things in.

"I'm sad too," Ria told Owen. "Could I get a hug? It would help me feel better." Owen nodded and stepped forward with his arms open. Cal let him go, a little bit proud; Gillian caught his eye and gave a tight lipped half smile. They were still at the grave site. The coffin had been lowered and people had drifted away. Gillian had stayed close to Ria's side and the younger woman reached for her hand during the moments she obviously found the hardest. Ria's family was there too but it seemed that just because they had known her the longest, didn't mean they knew her the best. They hung on the fringes, unsure and hesitant and the need to pry reared its ugly head in Cal. He wanted to march on over to them and ask what their problem was. But like he was going to do that to his employee and friend, his family. Not at a funeral.

After Owen hugged her fiercely, Lewis stepped up to do the same without being asked. She thanked them both profusely and Cal noted the way she fought back her sadness. She shouldn't hold it in. He should tell Gillian to tell her that. She had been keeping him loosely informed while she counselled Ria through the week but Cal wasn't sure he should advertise the fact. Felt a bit like a breach of confidentiality.

When the boys stepped away again Ria looked Cal directly in the eye. "I want to come back to work on Monday."

He gave a grim nod. Gillian opened her mouth to protest so he snagged her hand. He'd explain it to her later. Ria was like him, in so many ways, and in this way, she wanted to keep busy, because being at home only reminded her of what was lost. Gillian would understand that wouldn't she? Ria had done her crying and she was dealing and Cal thought her entire process had been healthy. She had been angry and she had grieved and maybe not all of it was out or over with yet, but she was moving forward.

"Come on," Cal took Owen's shoulder again to guide him away and pulled Gillian against him. He could see more family hovering. They were taking up more than their fair share of time.

"You guys are going to be there later right?" Ria looked worried.

"Of course," Gillian responded.

Ria looked relieved. "Cool."


	64. Chapter 64

"Is this cleaned up?" Cal asked as he came into the boys' bedroom, exaggerating his surprise. There were still toys on the floor and the boys were playing with some of them. "I send you up to tidy and you're playin'!"

Owen stood from his crouch. He waved a hand vaguely at the floor. "There is some and over there," he pointed to the toy bin against the wall.

"It's a great start," Cal took a seat on a miniature chair at the table against the other wall, by the wardrobe. "But you gotta clear _all_ of this up before your new bed gets here. Othawise the men might stand on somethin' and break them."

"Dad," Lewis spoke up. "Can't we just push it over there?'"

"Nope," Cal shook his head. "You agreed. You'd put all the toys away today to make room. And then your new bed would be here." They had already taken the crib out that morning and put it downstairs in the garage, ready to go to... well Cal and Gillian were arguing over it so it hadn't been decided where the crib was going exactly. Gillian wanted to keep it; Cal didn't see why they would bother. And Lewis's single bed had been taken down to the spare room where it was now squished into non-existence space because, again, they were arguing over it. Gillian was being sentimental and Cal was trying to be practical. There was no room for memories but in their heads.

The boys started to slowly put the toys they weren't in the middle of playing with into the toy bin. Cal really wanted to get rid of some of the toys too. They were old by seven-year-old Lewis standards and he'd outgrown them. Unfortunately, and this went in Gillian's favour, two-year-old Owen hadn't outgrown them yet and they still had value. Especially the educational toys that taught colours and counting. They just had so much stuff in there. Two sets of dresser drawers, a table and chairs, a book shelf, the toy bin. It was worse when the crib and changing table were still in there too.

"Are you ready?" Gillian came in, a bucket of cleaning products in her hand. "That's not ready." She looked at Cal as she put the bucket down on the table and his response was an expression that said '_what are you lookin' at me for?_' She bent down and picked up a plastic transformer by her feet.

"They're here!" Owen squealed, pointing to his feet before, falling back on the carpet as he lost his balance in his excitement. Lewis went to the window and pressed his nose against it. From that angle it was possible to see the street at the front of their house.

Cal laughed at Owen and Gillian giggled, and then bent to help him sit up. "They're not here yet silly," she told them.

"I can't see them," Lewis pouted from the window. Using to fingers to point to his eyes, then the street while shaking his head.

"That's cos you've not cleaned up yet," Cal told him, getting up from the hard micro chair with a sigh. The hard wooden seat was not comfortable against his backside anyway. "All right Owen." The boy sat up with his mother's help and gave Cal his attention. "You're on pickin' up the toys. _All_ the toys. All the bits of Lego, and batman ova there, and Optimus Prime." He pointed. "And you put them all in the toy bin or on the shelf or in your wardrobe." Probably too many instructions for a two-year-old but eh... "And Lew," Cal called to him at the window. He turned to listen. "You're on vacuumin'." Which Cal was obviously going to have to supervise. He brushed the fingers of his right hand in quick circles in the palm of his left.

"Want to give me a job too?" Gillian shot at him as he went by. Cal gave her an unimpressed smirk as he headed out to the cupboard in the hallway to get the vacuum cleaner. He brought it back for Lewis who came over and plugged it into the wall. Cal dropped the height of the nozzle for him and directed him to start in the corner where his bed used to be and it was the dustiest. Then he had to work his way across, following the wall. Cal pulled the bookcase away from the wall and both dressers. Gillian and Owen picked up the toys, which meant Gillian picked up most of them and Owen ran around excited, throwing things exclaiming 'they're here! They're here!' when in fact, the truck had still not yet arrived.

Cal lifted Lewis to suck the cobwebs out of the corner of the roof and from the tops of the curtains. So then Owen wanted to be lifted too so Cal sat him on his shoulders while they wiped down the tops of the doors and window sills. Serious spring cleaning.

When the entire room had been dusted and cleaned, Cal and Gillian helped Lewis and Owen figure out where they wanted their new furniture to go. Which meant Gillian and Lewis decided while Cal and Owen made a mess on the window by spraying cleaner on and then streaking their fingers through it.

"Oi you two!" Gillian called. Owen startled next to Cal and they both turned.

"Busted," Cal whispered to his youngest son. Owen giggled.

"You're meant to be _cleaning_ the windows."

"We are," Cal countered.

Gillian suppressed a sigh. She had this certain look on her face of annoyed patience when she was doing it and Cal fought back the need to smile. Owen climbed down from his perch on a chair so he could reach. "They here yet Mum?"

"Not yet baby. But soon, ok?"

Cal used the clean side of a cloth to wipe away the patterns vigorously. "That better not streak," Gillian noted, coming up behind him.

Cal put the bottle of spray on the windowsill and turned. "Why are you so grumpy?"

"I'm not."

"You are," he murmured, advancing on her, tossing his cloth over his shoulder to get rid of it quickly.

"Don't," Gillian warned taking a step backwards. Cal grabbed her and she shrieked, trying to fight him off. He leaned in to press kisses anywhere he could, both arms wrapped around her back tightly.

"Get Mum!" Lewis announced.

"Ahhhh!" Owen cried bounding towards them like a monster.

"No," Gillian protested weakly. Owen got behind her, screaming, and she started to trip. Her eyes widened in panic but Cal had her and pulled her towards him and then down to the ground. They all descended on her, the boys trying in vain to tickle, Cal holding her arms down and directing them were to go, Gillian's legs coming up to kick Lewis gently away. Owen started to climb onto her torso but Cal held him off from doing that, so he wouldn't hurt her, under the guise of another tickle attack on Gillian.

"Get her till she laughs!" Cal called out.

"Mum laughs," Owen echoed.

"No," Gillian protested again, squirming. Owen squealed and Lewis made monster attacking noises.

Cal leaned in close against Gillian's ear. "Cave," he whispered.

"I cave!" Gillian called out and suddenly quit fighting. "You win. Stop!"

Lewis sat back on his feet straight away, grinning still, pleased. Cal let Gillian go and gave her a kiss. "Aw feelin' betta now?"

"I'm just tired."

"I know," Cal told her softly. "It's ok."

"Ow Owen," Gillian whined as he slammed his hands against her chest again.

"No Owen," Lewis grabbed his arm and yanked it back to stop him from slapping at his mother. "Stop means stop." He brought the edge of his right hand down sharply against his left open hand. "Mum said stop so we stop. Those are the rules."

Gillian glanced at Cal, that quick look that said '_our boys!_'

"Very good Lewis," Cal encouraged with a 'thumbs up', and the boy looked pleased. Cal sat up, taking Gillian's hand to help her to sit too. "All right you boys. Where shall we put the book case?"

**PJ**

The bunk beds arrived shortly after the boys knocked the grumpiness out of Gillian. They came in pieces, the large bases of the beds and the stands for them to be attached to. The ones for the top bunk bed were obviously longer and Owen marvelled at how tall they were when they were propped against the wall for construction. There was a ladder for Lewis, who was going to sleep up top, that he also put against the wall and climbed to the top of, before jumping down again. Owen wanted to as well but he seemed only content with half way before climbing down again carefully.

"Make them Daddy!" Owen called out.

Cal was sat at the table, which had not moved from its position beside the wardrobe. "I'm readin' the instruction's batman."

Gillian was in the other chair, her legs stretched out in front of her, waiting. She made the miniature seats look far more comfortable; Cal had his knees up by his shoudlers. Owen headed over to her and climbed up the slide her body made. "Mum," Owen sighed, laying his head against her chest.

"Are you excited about your new bed?" Gillian asked him, curling her hand around the back of his head.

Owen turned his head up to look at her. "Oh yes!"

"Will you help Daddy build them?"

"Yes!"  
>"You're a helpful wee man," she told him. Owen wiggled up further to give her a kiss, then curled up against her chest again, knees tucked high.<p>

Lewis returned from the bathroom and Cal got his attention. He tasked him with finding certain smaller parts of the beds and laying them out on the carpet. "Oh me too," Owen rolled off his mother and thudded to the ground. He approached where his brother was opening the package of screws and bolts. "I help."

"You put these ones there," Lewis told him, picking out the ones their father had told him to find. He handed them to Owen one by one and he lay them out on the carpet next to where he was kneeling. When that was done Cal told Lewis to separate the next set, for the top bunk and Lewis found them all and gave them to Owen one by one, who lay them out on the carpet in a neat row beneath the first.

"He so takes after you," Gillian noted, as they sat and watched the boys work.

"I am not that anal," Cal noted looking over at her.

"Not Owen. Who knows where he gets _that_ from?"

Cal gave her a sharp expression.

"Shut up!" Gillian laughed, reaching out to give his shoulder a tap. "I meant Lewis. How he gives Owen one task at a time, something small that he can handle. That's you. He get's that from you."

Cal watched them amused. He _did_ do that. How funny that his seven year old was emulating the same logic. Did he think it through? That Owen was only two, and would only be able to handle a simple task. Or was he merely mimicking his father?

"Now you can take all the packagin' off the bottom bed first," Cal told Lewis.

The boy rushed to where Owen's bed was resting against the wall. "This one," he directed Owen who had followed behind as quickly as he could.

"I love watching them together," Gillian noted softly.

"Yeah," Cal smiled as they boys ripped and pulled and tore away the cardboard and bubble wrap. Lewis showed Owen how if he pressed the plastic bubbles they would make a popping sound. Cal wondered if Lewis could hear it or whether it just felt good exploding under his fingers.

"On the ground," Lewis decided and started laying out a big piece. He walked over it and Owen laughed. "You roll on it, Wen," Lewis directed, pushing the younger boy down by his shoulders. Owen kneeled on the bubble wrap and then dropped to his hip and shoulder and finally lay on his back, waving his arms and legs up and down like he had been taught to make snow angels. Owen laughed and switched to rolling from shoulder to shoulder. Lewis lay down at one end and rolled completely over from back to front until he bumped into Owen who gave a squeal. He climbed onto his brother's back who knocked him off by turning over again. When Owen was loose, Lewis turned back, leaning on his elbows and said something softly, signing 'fun'. Owen nodded and reached up his arms to put around Lewis's neck in a hug. Lewis let himself get sucked in and put an arm around his younger brother too.

Gillian turned to Cal and he gave her a slight knowing smile. Yeah he got it. They were cute. Mega cute. "I'm going to get my camera," Gillian told him.

"Betta run," Cal suggested.

"I might not catch that one, but I'll get the next," she responded, getting up.

**PJ**

They had taken the boys to furniture stores to pick out their new beds. They had great fun lying down on all the mattresses and testing them out. Some of the units had slides and toys attached; one had a crane. Cal was pretty impressed. The bed he'd had as a kid was hard board that sagged and made him feel like he was encompassed in a cocoon. Gillian instantly vetoed any beds that included specifications for fun, because she didn't think the boys would go to sleep if there were fun things to play with as part of their _beds_. Cal could concede that was a fair point but the boys weren't happy about it. Besides, united parent front...

So the new beds were wooden framed. The lower bed was perpendicular to the top bed, which created a little cubby of space beside where Owen would sleep. Gillian had measured it in the shop, and she was pretty confident Owen's drawers would fit. Or the little table they had been sitting on an hour ago. This was Owen's first big bed; it had taken them too long to move him from the crib. Sometimes he would start out in Lewis's bed, or their bed, so they knew he was ok with sleeping without the bars of the crib to keep him confined, and it was just as well because the bottom bunk did not have the same safety rail as the top.

Cal really didn't have to construct much in the way of assembling the beds. He merely had to screw the ends of the lower bed to the longer base, then the taller bed ends that the top bunk would rest on. Gillian helped him lift one end, with Lewis and Owen of course, and when the furniture was steady he screwed in the ends so it would hold. Then they lifted the other end and he did the same and that was it. He went over each screw to make sure they were all done up tightly, then added the safety bolts for extra strength and they put the mattresses on and that was that.

There was a break for dinner and then Gillian and the boys put new sheets on; batman for Owen, robots for Lewis. Cal pushed the furniture into new places. Lewis's dresser next to the end of his bed, the book case to the left of the door and Owen's drawers where the little table and chairs used to be, now that they fit beside his bed, in the little cubby created by Lewis's bed above. And then it was pretty much bed time. Gillian and Cal tucked them in, gave them kisses and cuddles and Gillian took a picture of them snuggled up under their new sheets in their new beds.

Cal hustled Gillian out of the room, put out the light, and closed the door.


	65. Chapter 65

"They're asleep," Gillian announced, locking their bedroom door behind her as she came back in. She was already dressed for bed, in an old t-shirt and underwear only, so she slipped beneath the bed covers and put out her light, so the room was only illuminated by Cal's bedside lamp.

"Brilliant," Cal murmured as she scooted closer, pressing her thighs against his, lying within the embrace of his arms. He was on his side already waiting for her. He slid a hand beneath her shirt, up the expanse of her back and stroked along her spine making her shiver. She grinned and leaned in to kiss him, her left hand, the arm she was not lying on, gripping at his shoulder, as if she needed to ground herself. "How is your skin so soft?" Cal murmured.

"I use body wash."

"I'm gonna start usin' it too," he told her seriously and she giggled, _giggled_, and he groaned. "Maybe then you'll wanna touch me all the time too," Cal went on, moving his hand around her waist, over her stomach, her skin warm beneath his fingers.

"Mmmm," Gillian quivered again. "I _do_ want to touch you all the time," she slid a hand over his nipple, her palm grazing achingly, making him growl. He leaned in to kiss her neck, nudging her shoulder out of the way with the edge of his jaw. She sighed into his kisses, turning further on to her back, pulling the weight of him against her. She could feel his hand against the elastic of her underwear and she tensed up, waiting, while desire dripped like honey through her body, from her neck to her stomach. Delicious.

Cal tucked a finger beneath the waist band but stalled. He grazed her neck with his teeth, then shifted further down to her collarbone where he had license to do damage; she could cover that up with clothing. Then he paused and another finger joined the first and they moved down further into the crease of her thigh. Oh god he was so good at the torture. Gillian put a hand into his hair to encourage but it seemed he couldn't, or wouldn't, multi-task, because he went back to kissing, his fingers still again.

Gillian scraped her fingers against the back of his head, then down over his back and shoulder, around to his stomach, stroking against his belly before heading up to his ribs. He gave a grunt against her sternum, where he had shoved her shirt up to get to skin, and broke away to look up at her, holding himself up on his left arm. His eyes were dark and Gillian realised her breathing had gotten quicker. He dropped his mouth to kiss the edge of her breast and her hips squirmed and his fingers slid closer to the throbbing within her. Success!

"Oh is that what you want?" Cal teased with a slight grin. And Gillian thought: no, what she wanted was for him to ride her hard. That was what she was in the mood for. But they'd had sex that morning all ready and Cal was not a young man anymore. So if she couldn't have that then she definitely wanted his hand or his mouth, or something, rough; she wanted release and she wanted it quickly. "Or that," Cal straightened up a little bit more to see her better. "Whateva _that_ was that just went through your mind. Let's do that."

"Well that would mean you have to stop teasing," Gillian challenged.

Cal shifted his fingers, turning them, so the pads were pressed firmly against her and she arched her back. "Like that."

"Yes," she choked out, surprised but delighted as the release of aching spread through her. But then it ricocheted back and she wanted more. She grabbed hold of his arm to steady herself but the burn was back with a vengeance. "More," she begged.

Cal shifted slightly, so he was leaning on her leg with his hip and yep, she could feel that he really wasn't in a position to keep up with her anymore. She wondered, fleetingly, if they should talk about it, but him moving his body also moved his hand slightly and it was so distracting she promised herself to give it some thought later, when this was over.

"What else did your imagination just conjure up?" Cal breathed against her neck again, his hand annoyingly still.

"Nothing," Gillian countered. "Just the end result."

"Oh shall I just skip to that bit?"

"No!" Gillian surprised herself, feeling his wrist tensing to move his fingers.

"No?"

"Just..." God damn he was a smug bastard. "Don't tease too long ok?"

"Ok," Cal agreed softly. He pressed a gentle kiss against her jaw. "But I'm gonna watch you."

Oh that was worse! Gillian felt her body flood with more heat and desire and Cal gave a little choke of his own surprise. His fingers twitched and she knew how the desire to touch her was starting to overpower his need for teasing. "That a turn on for you now huh?"

Not that she'd minded him watching her face before, while they were both... but it was a little different when they were entangled in each other and he was with her every step of the way. But this, if he did it this way, it was definitely more one sided and she was exposed, whether she liked it or not. And maybe a part of her was turned on but there was still a little part of her that felt subconscious. She shoved it away.

"Ok," she agreed, forcing her eyes open to look up at him, pushing her hips to find that sweet friction.

"Ok," Cal echoed and he looked like he was proud and then casually, but not agonisingly slowly, he slid down her and pushed a finger in.

**PJ**

"What can I help you with today?" Doctor Campbell asked, turning in his chair to look at Cal, now that he'd finished quickly reacquainting himself with Cal's patient notes.

"I'm havin' trouble keepin' up with my wife in bed," Cal told him. "You know, gettin' it up again if we've already had sex recently."

Campbell flashed a surprised expression. He turned to his desk to adjust the mouse on the computer screen. "And uh, do you have trouble maintaining an erection?"

Cal figured the slight shame was out of surprise because now the doctor looked back at him, in the eye, and he seemed to have gotten a hold of himself. "Nah," Cal shook his head slightly. "When I'm up, I'm up. It's just that... My wife and I are, ratha frequent, more than once in twenty-four hours, and I just can't handle it like when I was younga."

"Any premature ejaculation or other issues in that area?"

"Well, no, not since I had my accident."

Campbell nodded. "Not before?"

"Nah," Cal shook his head. "Best as I rememba, I've not eva had an issue."

"Ok, and you're generally well?"

"Yep, no complaints. Aside from the occasional blindin' headache."

Campbell looked concerned.

"From the accident," Cal explained. "Sometimes I still have them. Neurologist says that's normal."

"Ok," Campbell nodded. "Not smoking? Drinking heavily?"

"Nah none of that."

"You have just one sexual partner?" He paused. "I have to ask."

"Just my wife," Cal assured him.

"How often are you having sex?"

'_All the time_.'

"Uh, I don't know, once or twice a week, on a good week. There's _a lot_ of foolin' around." It would be more if he could actually... perform.

"As we get older our bodies slow down," Campbell started.

"Too right," Cal muttered.

Campbell seemed to hesitate. "I'm sure you know."

"I keep up," Cal agreed, meaning, he read.

"Well," Campbell turned back to his computer. "I can give you something that will enhance sexual performance." He started typing on the keyboard. "You're not on any other medications?"

"Not anymore." And Campbell should have known that, being his general practitioner and all.

"What I'm going to give you is a natural product. So you can take it with any medications. It's completely safe."

Cal raised an eyebrow, impressed. It wasn't every day he headed to his doctors to be given something and told he didn't have to stop drinking for a while or avoid dairy.

"And there should be no side effects. You don't have any food allergies?"

"No," Cal shook his head. "Not allergic to anythin'."

Campbell kept typing. A piece of paper shot out of the printer next to him but he kept typing for a second longer. Then he turned to reach for it and gave it to Cal. Cal didn't recognise the name of the product. "Take that once a day," Campbell instructed. "It should boost your natural sexual performance."

"And is there a time limit on when..?"

"No," Campbell smiled. "This isn't Viagra or any other kind of performance medication. It's a natural herbal product that will merely help you get an erection when you want one and help you maintain it. It works with the natural urges of your body. I'd say you don't have a problem being interested."

"Too interested," Cal muttered.

"Just making sure the mechanics work in your favour. There should be no lasting side effects. You can take it safely with any other medication, including over the counter pain medications."

"All right," Cal agreed, a little impressed. He _was_ expecting Viagra, or some other penis drug. He was expecting this to be harder, excuse the pun. He should have come in sooner. Years ago. "Thanks a lot."

**PJ**

"They're asleep," Gillian announced, locking their bedroom door behind her as she came back in. She was already dressed for bed, in an old t-shirt and underwear only, so she slipped beneath the bed covers and put out her light, so the room was only illuminated by Cal's bedside lamp.

"Brilliant," Cal murmured as she scooted closer, pressing her thighs against his, lying within the embrace of his arms. He was on his side already waiting for her. He slid a hand beneath her shirt, up the expanse of her back and stroked along her spine making her shiver. She grinned and leaned in to kiss him, her left hand, the arm she was not lying on, gripping at his shoulder, as if she needed to ground herself. Cal shifted his hand around her waist to her ribs, brushing his fingers beneath her breast. She arched into him as they kissed and bit his lip.

Cal pulled back and chuckled. "How is it you can still be so turned on?" Yesterday, the day before, the day before...

"I have no idea," Gillian murmured, her eyes on his mouth. She moved in closer again, letting her tongue slip past his teeth to kiss him deeply, warmly. "Is that not ok?"

"Oh no," Cal countered quickly. "It's very ok," he told her warmly.

Gillian gave him a kind of bashful smile and moved to kiss his neck. "Mmm," she hummed against his skin. "You used my body wash."

"Yup. Course, slightly worryin' walkin' around smellin' like vanilla and peaches all day at work," he noted conversationally. Gillian laughed a little, her breath tickling against him. Cal brought his hand up to her breast, squeezing and she froze with pleasure as he wrested control to his advantage again. He pushed her back against the bed and shifted to lean in over her, moving his hand to massage. Gillian groaned loudly, her fingers tight on his arm. Her hand slid to his waist, stroking, then around to his belly and Cal growled against her neck, which made her flinch into him again.

And then she pulled back abruptly, her eyes wide. "Seriously?" She asked him. Cal was confused for a second so she brazenly dropped a hand to his groin and stroked him delicately beneath his underwear. If he hadn't noticed it before, he definitely did now. Stirrings became more pronounced and he groaned against the delight she was easily working up.

"Oh Cal," Gillian groaned and she moved her torso closer against him, pressing her shoulders against the front of his. He could hear her panting in his ear and he suddenly remembered what the hell he was doing. He moved over her again, pushing her back, a hand on her hip, then on the mattress to hold himself up above her. He felt her leg shift beneath him and he lifted over it, so he was between her legs. Gillian gave a kind of growl, pulling him free of his underwear, then wiggling her hips to push her own down.

"Geeze," Cal muttered, excited more by the pace. Gillian pushed up with his her hips, rubbing against him and his elbows faltered so he dropped closer to her. Her hands came up and wrapped around his shoulders; her thighs shifted so they were next to his waist, wrapping her legs around his hips. She moved more, trying to find him and gave a disgruntled squeak when it wasn't working. Cal's brain reengaged and he shifted the angle of his hips back, finding her easily, his toes pushing against the mattress for purchase.

Gillian groaned at the ceiling and Cal felt a stab of panic at how quickly this was moving. "Are you sure you're?" He stared to ask breathlessly.

"Yes," Gillian ground out, pushing down on her hips. "Go," she whispered.

So Cal did and she cried out and honestly he was kind of beyond the point of reason right now. He rode her hard and it was over pretty quickly but it was hot and exciting. He rubbed her to make sure she orgasmed before he did and then let loose and he was half thinking, with all the noise, that they might wake Owen, who would wake Lewis, even though they were down the hall.

"Oh god!" Gillian cried to the ceiling and Cal was half inclined to clamp a hand over her mouth. He kissed her again and she muttered something else in her throat. Cal soothed her tongue with his, his thank you and moved away to let her catch her breath again. A quickie. In bed. Now that was interesting. For them. Bed was usually prolonged fooling and rolling around and love making. Quickies were for bathroom stalls and desks and the wall... although that'd probably break Cal's back at his point.

"That is what I was thinking about last night," Gillian murmured.

Cal laughed.

Gillian sat up to look at him, her hair sexy messy. "What... got into you?"

"Me?" Cal feigned shock. "You..." he started to accuse.

Gillian smoothed a hand over his chest, leaning against him. "No. We... you're not usually... good for a few days."

"I took somethin'."

"What?" Gillian showed mild surprise, and then concern.

"It's all natural," Cal quickly explained. "I went to see my doc."

"For Viagra?"

"No, not Viagra," Cal countered. "Some herbal thing. It works though. I only took one this mornin'."

Gillian gave a bashful smile and Cal grinned broadly. "You didn't have to... you felt you had to?"

"No," he stroked the hair back from her face gently. "While I love that we hand around all night, I'd also like to be about to shag you stupid when I _want_ to."

Gillian laughed softly again, her eyes shining with amusement. She leaned down to press a kiss against his sternum. "I like that too."


	66. Chapter 66

"These aren't mine," Emily came into the dining room where Cal was folding the laundry and stacking it on the table. Emily had already taken her pile down to her room and come back for the towels. Cal had to put away his washing and the kitchen items, like dish towels, place mats and cloths. In his daughter's hand was black lace and Cal felt his mouth go suddenly dry and his balls want to creep up inside him to protect themselves.

Busted.

So busted. He'd forgotten all about the black lace. He obviously wasn't paying too much attention to divvying up the washing. He didn't really want to pay too much attention to underwear that was not his own. As in, underwear that was his daughter's.

"Are these Gillian's?" Emily asked him pointedly, gesturing a little with the underwear in her hand towards him.

"Uh," Cal lunged suddenly to try and snatch the bra and underwear set out of her grasp.

Emily withdrew her hand easily to behind her back, like she had been anticipating the move. "Is Gillian doing laundry here?" She asked with that wide-eyed Bambi look that didn't fool Cal anymore.

"Well not really," he tried. The truth was kind of complicated but it involved not being able to freaking keep their hands off each other and _a lot_ of foreplay with, uh, massage oils and stuff, and that equalled very messy and well, Gillian hadn't been heading straight home after she had left him that morning and she didn't want the, uh, stuff to stain her clothes or underwear and Cal had said 'just chuck them in the wash then' and she was dubious because he wasn't the only person who did washing in this house and he promised he'd get them back before Emily even knew anything about it and she said 'ok you better' and he said he would but he had totally failed. Totally.

"It's ok if she is," Emily told him, pointedly, standing there, staring at him, waiting for him to just admit something he didn't want to.

"Well she's not."

"But she could, if she's staying over on the weekend, or something?" Emily gave a little nonchalant shrug.

"You stay ova on the weekend," Cal pointed out, trying to deny.

"Not all the time," Emily retorted. "Is that when she comes over? When I'm not here?" And she distinctly looked a little hurt.

"Sometimes," Cal mumbled, turning back to his pile of tea towels. The underwear landed in front of him and he quickly scooped it up and tucked it under a t-shirt on top of his pile. He also had Gillian's shirt and jeans there too that he was hoping he could have snuck out of the room without Emily noticing. The underwear had slipped his mind. Which was pitiful. Or perhaps Freudian.

Emily leaned against the table. "You know Dad, it's ok that she stays over and does laundry and stuff."

Cal looked up at her. He was essentially trying to deny that he and Gillian were serious, that she didn't stay over and they didn't do domesticated things like washing or dishes or cooking. Or that she had clothes there. Which she did. But for whatever reason he wasn't sure. To deny that he had something serious with her? Or was it to deny to his daughter that he had something serious going on with another woman? He hadn't dated since he broke up with her mother. Was that weird for her? Or was that weirder for him?

"You guys are obviously sleeping together," Emily kept going, directing a hand at the underwear as proof. "And I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to sneak around. I think it would be better if you don't."

"Oh really?" Cal gave her an unimpressed expression. So he denied it and she saw through him anyway. Great.

"What if Gillian thinks she doesn't mean that much to you because you won't bring her home to meet your daughter?"

"You've already met. _Several_ times," Cal gave her an expression that was meant to say 'you're freaking crazy'. "You go shoppin' together and all sorts of otha stuff. Sometimes you act," and he stopped himself from saying 'like she's your mother'. "Like you like her more than you like me."

Emily gave him a pout. "I do."

"Oi!"

She gave him a bright smile and then it faded and she was composed again. "Seriously Dad. Just maybe invite her over for dinner ok? So we can all have a meal together, like grownups."

"I'll ask," Cal responded dryly. They had, of course, had meals together before but he knew what Emily meant. Gillian was his... something and Emily was his daughter and the dynamics of all of their relationships had changed now. Which kind of warranted a little reworking to see how they all fit together again. Or something. That's what Gillian would rationalise to him if he brought it up with her. He knew her too well. Cal finished with the towels and pushed them down the table towards his daughter, then grabbed up his pile of clothes and Gillian's underwear.

"Then you can go on pretending you're not sleeping together all you like," Emily added under her breath as he started to walk away.

Cal gave a heavy defeated kind of sigh and headed down the hall to his room to put his pile of clothes away. Emily was right. Gillian should come over for dinner with all three of them there, like grownups. He _was_ serious about her and Em _was_ his daughter and he shouldn't hide them from each other, that wasn't right. He shouldn't be acting like he was ashamed, far from it. Emily was wrong about one thing though. Gillian wasn't going to get the wrong impression. She was as much an advocate of sneaking around as he was. The person their relationship was giving a wrong impression to was Emily. Cal was supposed to be setting a good example.


	67. Chapter 67

"We're early," Cal noted as they pulled up in front of the house. He checked the time on the dash, then took the keys out of the ignition and rested his hand on his thigh. He looked across the road and up at the house. It was brick but the second story was weatherboard; it looked clean and tidy. The lawns were kept, the gardens clear of weeds, even though the house was currently unoccupied. Could be a full time job going around mowing the lawns of all the houses for sale.

Gillian sat back in the passenger seat, following his gaze. "I still think I like this one better than the others."

"You've not been inside yet," Cal pointed out.

She gave a little shrug and content smile. "The others were too far away."

Cal didn't respond. That was a pretty weak excuse for not liking the two they had already seen that morning. Although a practical one.

"Plus there is a really nice restaurant around the corner," Gillian pointed in the direction. Cal chuckled. "_'George's'_," she added. She looked over at him with a smile. "I have a good feeling about this place."

"Not supposed to get all excited," Cal warned her. "Supposed to play it cool," he made a 'smooth' motion with his hand.

"I will," Gillian insisted. And then added, "If you get any cooler you'll be noticeably nonchalant."

"I'm not nonchalant," Cal protested. Gillian gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm..." Cal tried. "I don't get all this," he gestured at the house. "You pick somewhere you like and I'll like it. That's how it works."

"And if I pick somewhere I like and you hate it?"

"If I hate, absolutely hate it, I'll let you know," he met her eye.

She watched him for a moment, her face so open, so full of joy. IT was always like that these days. Always. When they were around each other. Sometimes it still scared him how he was falling head long into the unknown. With Gillian right beside him, holding his hand. "So that last place?" Gillian asked.

"Didn't hate it," Cal clarified. "Didn't like it eitha," he added after a beat.

"Hm," Gillian noted. "That, is at least, a response."

Cal turned his head away to look out of his side window, so he could hide a smirk. The funniest thing was, he had suggested house hunting in the first place.

"I saw that," Gillian murmured. "Oh she's here." She unclipped her seatbelt and popped open her door to step out. Cal did the same and followed his partner across the road. He really didn't get the house hunting thing. He was more of a roll up, know in his gut whether he liked it or not, and make a decision. Whereas Gillian wanted to look at all her options and then pick the best of the bunch. On her system, they could look for years and never find something she considered appropriate. To be fair, if they used his system, they could still look for years and never find something that made his gut speak up but at least he would never settle.

Cal had not had much of a say during his first house buying experience. Zoe had picked their home back when they were getting married; Cal had no opinion and he had grown to like it. There wasn't anything about it in particular he didn't like; he had just never been overly attached. So it would be the same this time around to. He never saw a house he 'loved', only ones that were either completely hideous or were tolerable. If his wife, no, if Gillian was happy, then he'd be happy with it. But he wasn't stupid either. Gillian was looking for a response from him. She was doing this as a _partnership_ whereas Zoe liked her dictatorship. So Cal realised he had to make more of an effort. For her sake. She tried so hard to make things even between them, and clear that she was not going to just go through their relationship on her own, dragging him along behind her. He was pretty sure she would walk away rather than go through that again. Considering Cal had resisted in his own way before and that marriage had fallen apart, perhaps it was fair to try it another way this time around, just like Gillian was. Not that they were married. Nope. He wasn't talking about marriage. But... it was just...

Jenny had been dragging them around half of America, if felt like. She didn't seem to understand the concept of 'only interested in houses in the District of Columbia, not Maryland or Virginia.' Gillian was too polite to shut the real estate agent down. She also countered they might find a real gem, which could be worth a longer commute. When Jenny went through her spiel Cal tended to switch off. This is what he did when they walked up the path and the real estate agent went on about how old the house was and some of the architectural features. The air was cool today, they were headed into winter, and all he could think about was how it made Gillian's cheeks turn a little red and that reminded him of when they were...

The front door opened at the end of a hall. Immediately to the right was a living room, which led through to a dining room and on to the kitchen. The kitchen was large with big bay windows along one wall. There were double glass doors that opened out to a deck and even though it was cold, the sun was shining. The room was flooded with light. Jenny unclasped the latch to push the doors open onto the wooden deck. The eaves of the house were extended to create a bit more shelter than normal and there were steps that led down to the lawn; another manicured garden. The en suite backed on to the kitchen, which placed the master bedroom across the hall. Next to that was another smaller bedroom, more like a cupboard or a study. Another communal bathroom was in the middle and finally, at the end of the hall, a medium-sized bedroom. Gillian nominated it as Emily's room.

Gillian was all bright smiles and attentive ears as they wandered around. The house was warm, considering, and bright. There was plenty of light and space and Cal watched Gillian mentally put their possessions in place. He wasn't paying particular attention to the real estate agent; he was more interested in watching his girlfriend, or partner, or whatever. His Gillian. His.

Then there was the inevitable: "So what do you think?" Jenny asked brightly.

"I like it," Gillian responded but she was being cautious.

"Feel free to take another walk through," Jenny directed. She indicated she was going to go check something in the front, which was code for leaving them alone to talk. As soon as she was out of earshot Cal reached for Gillian's hand and pulled her close against him. She gave him a surprised expression.

"I like it," Cal murmured, putting his arms around her waist in a loose embrace.

Her surprise became more pronounced as they stood belly to belly in the middle of the master-bed room floor. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah I can see us here."

"Really?"

"I'm not _that_ close minded."

"I never said you were," she replied nonchalantly. She rested a hand against his chest and looked up to meet his eye. "Me too," Gillian gushed with a smile.

"I'm already picturin' takin' you on the kitchen bench," he whispered near her ear.

"Cal!" She exclaimed, eyes darting to the door of the master bedroom where they were standing. But no one was there. She gave his shoulder a little push and he grinned as he stood back, thrown off balance. She smiled too, but she tried to help it. "I was thinking about how big the shower seemed."

Cal laughed and she grinned bashfully again. Then she stepped forward again to kiss him, running her fingers through the soft hair at the base of his skull as her lips caressed his. It felt good. Now _he_ was thinking about the shower.

"Well?" He prompted when they broke apart but he could already tell; this place was different. He knew her answer already.


	68. Chapter 68

"All right," Cal decided. "Time to start dinna." He planted a kiss on the tip of his wife's freckled nose and sat up from the bed. Gillian gave him a slight smile as he looked over his shoulder before he moved away, heading out of their bedroom. She could hear the low rumble of his voice in the hallway and figured Lewis had finally reached the point where he'd been playing alone for too long and had come to see what everyone was up to. Gillian had just had a nap and Cal had come in to check up on her just as she was waking; his spidey-senses could be quite impressive sometimes. He had stayed awhile for cuddles; slightly awkward when she was under the blankets and he was on top of them but sweet and warm nonetheless.

Lewis appeared around the edge of the bed frame like a waif, his face tentative, his eyes curious. "Mum," he whispered. "Are you wake?" He opened his hand in front of his face and raised his eyebrows, widening his eyes as if he were waking-up.

"Sure baby," she patted the mattress beside her encouragingly. "Come and lie with me."

He had a book in his hands that he threw to the mattress, and which hit Gillian's knee, before climbing up. She moved back slowly to give him more room. He kicked his feet under the blankets and settled them over his lap, making sure he was all tucked in. Then he reached for his book and settled down, so his shoulders and head rested against the head of the bed, which undid his tucking but which he also didn't seem to be bothered about this time. Gillian could feel the baby turning over inside her, somersaulting, as if he knew his brother was close.

"Mum you show me," Lewis demanded, signing 'show', then opening his book and turning the pages roughly, his search purposeful.

Gillian couldn't quite see the cover but she suspected she knew what the book was, based on shape and current popularity. Lewis flipped through the pages quickly to near the back, until he found the page he wanted. He had started at the front, instead of the back, which would have been quicker, so he almost seemed impatient until he found what he wanted. Gillian tolerantly waited for him to get to the point. Then she needed the bathroom.

"This one," Lewis found the page he wanted. He held up the book so he could see. "Which one is this one?" He used a 'wh?' questioning gesture.

Gillian brought up a hand to pull the book down. "I can't see," she told her son, using her fingers pointing to her eyes and then the book to indicate what it was the couldn't see, while shaking her head. Lewis turned the book towards her more. The page he had selected was one that showed a series of progress images of a baby growing in a woman's womb. They were real photographs, the only images in the book that were not cartoon. Gillian found the seven month representation and pointed at it. She knew what the four year old was asking her. "The baby looks like this at the moment."

"Oh," Lewis turned the book again, bringing it up closer to his face to study. He was silent for a moment. The baby gave Gillian a kick and then went still again. Typical that while she napped he moved around and while she was awake he went quiet. "And then this one and this one and then it comes out?" He indicated each of the remaining months in the series. They showed the baby growing bigger and bigger and getting more cramped within the confines of the woman's body, before it turned, head down, ready for birth in the ninth month.

"Yes," Gillian agreed. "Two more months and then he'll be here." She smoothed a hand over her belly. Two more months.


	69. Chapter 69

Gillian was curled against the back of the couch, her head resting on her left hand, her legs bent at the knee in front of her. Cal was sitting towards her, but with his feet on the floor, so his thigh was pressed against her knees and his body facing her, his head rested against the back of the couch so he looked up to talk to her. Cal shifted his hand to her right arm, brushing his fingers absently against her skin, not even looking at what he was doing or seemingly concentrating on it, before pulling back again.

"Do you miss your Dad?"

Gillian looked up a little, towards the roof, as she thought about her answer. "I... miss him in two ways," she looked at him again. Cal raised an eyebrow, silently inviting her to elaborate. "I miss what he could have been as a father. I miss those times I wish he'd been there and wasn't."

Cal nodded. "But you made up right?"

"Some."

"It's not enough?"

"I think the best to hope for is forgetting."

"Hm," Cal mused, or maybe agreed. He looked to his lap for a second, then back up at her, remembering she had said 'two' ways. "What's the otha way you miss him?"

"I miss seeing him because he lives in San Diego," Gillian answered simply.

Cal gave another slight nod, dropping his gaze again to this time watch as he brushed his fingers against her arm, down to her wrist, before falling away again. It was like he was testing again that she was there, tangible. He lifted his hand again instantaneously to press it around her hand and keep it there, warm and solid and large. His eyes came up to meet hers, as if tentatively checking her reaction, and then he shifted forward to press his lips against hers. He was soft, but possessive and yet also respectful. He didn't push her for more, just the kiss, even though she kissed him back, barely keeping herself under control; she didn't want him to know. Not all of it and not just yet. This was still new. Sort of. It was complicated. They had known each other a long time but this, the kissing bit, the touching, holding hands, it was new. Cal pulled away again and looked down at their hands resting together.

"Do you miss London?" Gillian felt the need to fill the silence. If she stopped to think, about him, about them, she felt overwhelmed.

"Not really sure," Cal looked up at her again.

"How can you not be sure?" Gillian prompted softly.

"I don't think about it," Cal responded simply.

"You don't think about your father? Your brother?"

Cal gave a shrug. "I... pretty much cut and run."

'_Emotional distance_,' Gillian thought to herself. But that was Cal, so what else did she really expect? It grounded her again, reminded her that really they had a long way to go before there would be any sort of... It wasn't just about sex. It was about dropping all the other boundaries as well. She had just come out of a divorce and she was the one who insisted they don't sleep together just yet, because she wanted to make sure she was ready. She wanted to make sure she really was over her husband. She didn't want to screw this up with Cal. But Cal also needed to drop boundaries. He had walls and they were well constructed. They had stood the test of time and many a battering. The only person who could take them down was him. He had to.

Cal had cooked her dinner tonight for their date and they'd had wine before lounging on the couch and talking. Cal had offered a movie but they had never got around to put anything on. They just talked and talked and talked. It was already late but Gillian didn't want to leave. She was really enjoying their conversation. She enjoyed spending time with him, watching for little glimpses of the real him beneath his armour.

"I left a long time ago," Cal went on, choosing to elaborate. "And I've not been back for a while. I don't really miss what I don't realise I miss."

Gillian thought about that for a moment. "I think I understand that. I don't realise how much I miss my father until I see him again."

Cal gave a slight smile. "That."

Gillian reached out with her left hand to smoother her fingers through his hair. It was soft and she was more struck with the fact that she was allowed to touch him when she wanted to, particularly in _this_ way. Cal looked up at her with soft grey eyes and they were silent for a moment. Gillian had a sudden overwhelming urge to kiss him but she fought it back. It wasn't fair to tease. She didn't mean to tease. She didn't want to wind him or herself up. She wanted him, sure, but she also didn't want Cal to be her rebound. There was a school of thought that said it would take half the amount of time of a relationship to get over the person the relationship was with. She had been with Alec for twelve years. There was no way she was going to wait for six years to go by before she was with Cal. Maybe six months... She had already known him six years.

"Do you think your Mom would have stayed in London?"

"What do you mean?" Cal met her eye again.

"If you'd asked her to move, do you think she would have? Or do you think she would have stayed in London. With your father?" What Gillian meant, was if she was still alive. If she hadn't killed herself and life had gone on as normal. Then again, would Cal have even run away?

"Don't know about that," Cal quickly responded. It seemed he had given it some prior consideration. "I don't think she would've stayed with him once Thomas and I had gone."

Gillian nodded.

"Not sure she'd leave London though," Cal mused. "I've not though about that." He was silent for a moment. Gillian let her fingers fall still, resting on top of his head. "I don't think she'd want to leave Thomas. He had Sarah you know?"

"You had Emily."

"Sarah came first."

Gillian understood what he meant. If Louise had settled she probably would have stayed put. Gillian wondered how she would have dealt with a granddaughter in another country. Then again, she could muse all she wanted, she didn't know hardly a thing about Cal's mother. Just that she had been deeply unhappy and had taken her own life to escape.

"I think she might have liked DC though," Cal went on.

Gillian met his eye again and gave him a tentative smile. He was trying to open up. For her. Then she yawned, wide, her jaw cracking open, making her eyes water. "Oh," she put a hand over her mouth, a little embarrassed.

Cal grinned at her. "Am I borin' you?"

"No," Gillian quickly answered but Cal was teasing and she laughed a little, sliding her hand to cup around his ear.

"Bed time then," Cal countered. He flicked back the sleeve of his shirt to see his watch. "It's late."

"Ok," Gillian agreed with a whisper. She started to move, to straighten her legs out but Cal's hand dropped to her knee, stilling her again. She met his eyes, had that overwhelming urge to kiss him again; a desperate need to feel the warmth of his mouth, the pressure of his lips. His kisses were heaven.

"Stay," Cal murmured gently.

"Cal," Gillian warned.

"Just stay," he tried again. "It's late and you've had wine and it's a long way to go." His hand squeezed her knee and shifted to her arm again, brushing over her skin, making her shiver inside, quiver with wanting to say 'yes'.

"It's cold outside," he went on gently, his voice soft and smooth and hypnotising and convincing. "And..."

"Ok," Gillian agreed. Damn it.

Cal pushed away from the couch, no gloating or triumph, just acceptance. He wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. He turned back for her hand and pulled her to stand, waiting for her to unfold her legs. She was shorter than him without heels on and she liked that. He headed for the door, hitting the lights on the way out, ignoring the dirty wine glasses on the low table. She followed him without complaint to his bedroom, her stomach tightening as they approached. Only then she seemed to realise that this was probably not a good idea.

Cal put the overhead lights on and kept a hold of her hand as he took a few steps in, then let her go and crossed to close the curtains. Gillian noted the black and white photograph on the wall, the dark curtains, the chocolate brown sheets on the bed... and she wondered what she was doing. Was he thinking...? Expecting...? Hoping...?

"What's your preference?"

"Huh?" Gillian realised Cal had moved to a tall boy. He had a top drawer open.

"I can give you a shirt." He turned to her unperturbed. "Unless you'd prefer to sleep in nothin'?" He said it so deadpan.

Gillian gave a slight smile. "A shirt will be fine, thank you."

Cal picked one out and tossed it at her. She only barely caught it before it slammed into her face. He headed out of the room again, to the hallway, and she wondered where he had gone until she heard another door click shut, then water in pipes; he must be brushing his teeth. Gillian quickly took her shirt off and put Cal's on. God it smelt like him and she gulped to find her breath again. And then she removed her trousers and put them over the end of his bed, with her shirt. She unhooked her bra and slid it off her shoulders and down her arm, one side at a time, until she could pull it from beneath the shirt. She put that on the end of the bed too, then put her shirt over the top of it.

She was studying a photo of Emily on his dresser when he came back in, announcing the bathroom was free. Gillian hurried out of his bedroom, self-conscious of the fact his shirt really didn't cover a lot of her up and that she was in his _bedroom_. When she got back from the bathroom he was already in bed, sitting up, the covers up to his waist, shirtless.

He was _shirtless_.

She could see the dark hair and his smooth muscular shoulders. She was starting to think this was seriously _not_ a good idea. The overhead light was off and a lamp on beside Cal instead. He didn't particularly look at her as she pushed the door closed, her heart rate starting to rise, and headed around the bed to slip into the other side, on his right. She settled quickly, the sheet and blanket to her chin. "Ready?" Cal asked.

"Yes," she breathed. She sheets smelt like him too. Oh God.

The light went out and she felt Cal settle on the mattress next to her. The room was silent and she was aware of how quickly she was breathing. She shifted slightly, so self-conscious, pressing her face into the pillow; it was the perfect thickness. The mattress was really comfortable too and she could hear Cal breathing steadily. It was so quiet but suddenly it wasn't weird anymore. Gillian relaxed and closed her eyes and felt the tug of sleep start to overwhelm her already. She shifted a little more and felt her foot brush against Cal's leg. She didn't even have the heart to withdraw it. He wasn't even... She trusted him.

"Good night Gill," Cal murmured in the dark.

"Good night Cal," Gillian whispered back. And then she fell asleep.


	70. Chapter 70

Gillian ran her fingers through the bath water, checking the warmth of it, wondering how hot she could dare to go before it reached Cal's threshold for heat tolerance. It was pretty deep too so she switched off the taps before the water displacement their bodies created lifted the water over the edge of the bath tub. She'd put in a vanilla 'milk' which made the water creamy and the room heady but didn't create bubbles.

"Here," Cal entered the bathroom and she turned her head to see him intently watching the two mugs in his hands as he walked towards her.

Gillian smiled and stood to take her mug from him. When she peered inside she could see the entire surface was covered in melting marshmallows. She laughed. "Are you kidding me?"

"You like marshmallows right?"

"Yes," Gillian laughed again. But. Smart ass. Cal gave her a grin as he sipped his drink. She wondered if he had hot chocolate or tea. Gillian sucked a pink marshmallow into her mouth and rolled the gooey softness around her mouth with her tongue until it had dissolved completely.

"Right," Cal put his mug down on the corner of the bath. He stripped off his shirt and jersey in a swift motion, making himself half naked in one move. He undid his jeans and pushed them down, pulling each leg off the end of his foot, along with his socks, keeping perfect balance. Then he was standing there in his underwear and he turned on her, quickly approaching. He took her mug and placed it on another corner of the bath, one down by the plug end.

"I," Gillian started to intimate that she could undress herself but he shushed her gently and started taking her clothes off her. It was... intimate to say the least, the way he concentrated and he didn't even let his hands linger until she was in her underwear and he reached around her to take her bra off.

"You're cold," he noted.

"You dragged me out into the snow," Gillian retorted, shivering, her flesh rising up in tiny little mounds, all over. That might not have entirely been about the cold. Cal gave her a once over, then gestured she should get in. He rid himself of underwear and shoved the bathroom door closed. Gillian stepped over the edge of the bath into the water. It was nice and hot and made her cold skin tingle. She made sure she left room for him.

"Was it not worth it though?" Cal countered, stepping in behind her. He turned her by the shoulder so her back was to him, so she was facing the plug and pushed down on her shoulder to indicate she should sit. They jostled and slipped until they were settled comfortably, Cal resting against the curve of the back of the bath, Gillian between his legs, leaning against the curve of his chest.

"Was so worth it," Gillian agreed, thinking again of the beautiful angel and the way the ice shards flew through the black night like thousands of miniscule lights. "We should go back tomorrow. See them all finished."

"All right," Cal agreed easily. She could feel him reach for his drink. Hers was all the way at the other end of the bath now. She sat forward to retrieve it, using his legs for leverage. Gillian had to keep her knees bent otherwise she wouldn't fit; her bath was not designed for two people. When she lay back against Cal again he wrapped his left arm around her waist loosely and leaned into kiss her neck. His right arm came around her, higher than the left, so he pressed against the edge of her breasts which made her feel squirmy inside; she figured he'd finished his drink already. When it was cool enough he tended to just drink the rest of it. His right hand, she noted, was hotter than the left. He sighed against her neck as he nuzzled with his nose and it made her smile. "No bubbles," Cal muttered.

"Aw sorry," Gillian responded on a light laugh. "I used something else." She sucked another marshmallow from the sludge of them in the top of her drink. It was already starting to get cold. The beverage, not anything else. Or did it just feel like that because the water was hot and Cal's body hotter?

"Next time," Cal murmured.

"Ok," Gillian agreed readily. He wanted to take baths with her? With girly smelling bubble bath? Ok. That was fine by her. She dropped her left hand to cover over his, pushing her fingers between his from above. He shifted them slightly to give her more room, then squeezed again when they were in place. "It was a really nice evening Cal."

"That's good."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome darlin'. Was my pleasure." He pressed another gentle kiss against her temple, holding her tightly, lovingly. It almost felt like he gave a content smile. "How's your cocoa?"


	71. Chapter 71

"All right good night darlin'," Cal leaned down to kiss Owen. The boy wrapped his arms around his father's neck and clung on tightly. Cal had to pry him loose before he stepped back and cracked his head on the top bunk. "Ow god son of a..." Cal clamped a hand down on the crown of his skull; fiery hot pain.

Owen giggled and Lewis's head appeared over the top of the safety rail of his bed to see what was going on. "Dad are you ok?" Owen asked next, getting to his knees again. Lewis sat up to see better.

"Yep, Owen, thanks, I'm all right," Cal rubbed his head through gritted teeth. It throbbed sharply.

"You have to be careful," Lewis told him, moving 'K' hands in a Ferris wheel.

"I know," Cal responded. To be fair, he'd done pretty well. The bunks had been up for a few years now and this was the first injury he'd sustained. Not a bad record at all. "All right, I'm all right, sleep time," he reiterated when the sharp ache became a dull one. "Hop back into bed Owen." He looked up to Lewis. "And you."

Lewis reached out an arm to bring his father closer and Cal lifted his chin over the safety rail. Lewis planted a kiss on his cheek and petted the back of his head. "Dad, where's your Mum?" He signed the full sentence.

Cal was stunned for a second by the question.

"Yeah Dad where's your Mummy," Owen spoke up from beside him.

"Uh," Cal turned. Owen was standing now on his mattress beside his father, his arms up so his hands were at Cal's neck. This was not a conversation for bed time. It was incredibly long and somewhat complicated and he didn't want them thinking about the whole truth while trying to go to sleep. So he didn't want to lie, but he certainly didn't want to tell them the entire story. Not yet. Owen was four and Lewis nine. "My Mum died," Cal told them, rolling a hand from palm down to palm up.

"That's sad," Lewis responded moving his hands down the front of his face while pouting his lip.

"How did she die?" Owen asked, rolling his 'Macdonald' arches forward so they were upside down.

Great.

"In the mornin'," Cal told him instead, moving his left hand to his right wrist, then moving his right arm up.. "Remind me in the mornin' and I'll tell you about Nana." He pressed his thumb against his forehead.

"Why no now?"

"Because it's _bed time_, Owen," Cal told him pointedly, putting a palm against his face to rest on it. "Come on, back into bed," he hustled Owen under the covers.

"How about your Dad?" Lewis spoke up.

"He also died," Cal answered, adjusting Owen's teddy so he was tucked under the covers too. When she straightened he signed 'dead' again.

"Everyone's dead," Owen noted.

"What?" Lewis asked.

"Everyone's dead!" Owen raised his voice.

"Oi shhh," Cal hushed him. "Sleep," he told Owen. He straightened up again, careful this time of his head and gave Lewis another hug and kiss, which he had to sit up to receive. He told the older boy to go to sleep as well, running his fingers down his face to close at a point by his chin.

Cal pulled his sons' bedroom door closed and found his heart was pounding. He didn't think he was going to have to explain so soon. Emily had been a lot older when he'd told her the story of his mother's death. She'd asked about his mother but he'd never had to tell her the truth until she was much older; he'd never volunteered to. He hadn't lied to her but he'd never gone into so much detail. And now the boys were asking and he had to think about how much he was going to tell them and how he was even going to say it. They were just babies, too young for that kind of thing on their conscience. This was going to be a tricky conversation.


	72. Chapter 72

Gillian waited for Owen to climb into his car seat, then once he was settled she leaned in to clip his seatbelt into place for him. "We made play dough today," he told her conversationally, blue eyes bright.

"What did you make with it?"

"Horse and person."

"Neat," Gillian responded with a smile. She pushed his door closed carefully and went around to the driver's side. When she got back in he was still talking, giving her details she hadn't heard, which made Gillian smile. It was so nice hearing him talk. Lewis was sometimes entirely too quiet, too much like his father. It was worse when he was little and playing catch up. They headed out to Maryland to get Lewis from school. When he moved to his new school next year he'd be getting the bus. Concord Hill School only went to the third grade. Lewis was already enrolled at Georgetown Day School.

Gillian parked and went around the car to retrieve Owen. He was allowed to unclip his restraints, which was easy enough to do by pressing the button, but had to wait for an adult to open the door for him. She took his hand and walked with him to the designated place where Lewis knew someone would be to pick him up. There were other mothers waiting too, gossiping about someone or something. Gillian didn't particularly care for that but it was nice to have a network of familiar faces when she was obliged to attend school events, and sometimes it was smart to have a network that kept her informed of school news. The unofficial stuff. When Lewis was being picked on by that boy, it was the parent's who gave Gillian more information about who it was and what class he was in than her son did. Apparently, the kid was notorious and so were his parents. The family had moved out of the area but there was a rumour they had been asked to leave the school. Some of the women had children Owen's age or older and he played with them on the grass while the parents waited.

The bell rang and little bodies started to pour out. Attention was turned to children with backpacks and bright eyes. Lewis rushed up to Gillian and she felt her heart lighten to see him; her first born. Sometimes it struck her when she wasn't expecting it, that she was a mother. "Hi Mum," Lewis slowed to get the signs in before he reached her and wrapped his arms around her hips.

"Did you have a good day?" She asked and signed, then brushed his hair out of his eyes. He needed a haircut. Lewis nodded, looking up at her. "That's good."

"Did you have a nice day?" He asked politely.

"Yes," Gillian gave him a smile. "Grab your brother and let's go." She used 'get', 'brother' and 'leave'.

Lewis turned and went over to Owen, tapping him on the shoulder. Owen looked up surprised, then stood to hug his brother. Gillian watched them talking, signing and smiling. Her heart fluttered again. So cute. Both of them. Lewis, taller now, with his dark hair and pale eyes and Owen, blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Both of them had freckles but they were only observable up close; this far away Gillian' couldn't see them but she knew they were there. She had spent hours upon hours studying their little faces. Lewis approached where she was waiting, with Owen in hand and Gillian let them get ahead of her as they headed to the car again.

As soon as she got through the door, the boys rushing ahead of her to get to the kitchen first for snacks, Gillian's phone started to ring. She had to dig through her handbag to find the device. The name on the screen was Ria. "Hi," Gillian answered pleasantly and the other woman launched in immediately.

"Talk to him. He's being a complete jerk!"

"Who?" Gillian cut in, shocked.

"Your husband. He won't help me at all. Keeps telling me there's nothing he can do. Which is just a crock of shit. He could do more I know that. I've seen him do more for other people and it's just that it's me isn't it? It's because I'm not a paying client."

"Wait what?" Gillian asked, still surprised and confused now as well. She stood in the middle of her hallway. "Slow down and tell me again."

**PJ**

"Oh hello," Cal greeted dryly as Gillian came into his office, herding the boys in front of her. They greeted him brightly and gave him hugs but Gillian did not look entirely happy to be there. "I just had a call from Ria."

"Oh," Cal responded, feeling a little pang of disappointment, despite suspecting he would be hearing from his wife soon in one way or another. The boys had gone to the couch and were unpacking containers of food. They had obviously been pre-instructed. He indicated with a jerk of his head that he and Gillian should go into the study. He pulled the sliding door mostly closed for privacy, but open enough to keep an ear on their kids. "What did she say?" He asked warily.

"That you were being purposefully difficult," Gillian answered tightly. She was obviously agitated.

"All right, before you start..."

"No let me go first," Gillian raised a hand and put it against his chest, almost sighing. Her voice lost so of its harshness. "I'm on your side. I came in to talk to Ria because she seemed incredibly upset."

Cal opened his mouth surprised and closed it again. "Thought you'd be in to tell me off."

"For the record, I'm on your side. _But_ I would like to hear your side of the story before I tell you off for being an idiot."

Cal sighed and stepped away, pacing, turning back towards her and approaching again. "A friend of Karl's from the state department called her with information about his death."

Gillian raised an eyebrow surprised.

"You know how they hushed it all up."

Gillian nodded that she understood. Officially Karl Dupree had died in service of his country. More likely, he died in service of someone else's. There had been a shooting involving a foreign national and no one had really known what had happened. Gillian had even made a few phone calls to old friends of hers and Alec's to see if they knew anything and might do her a favour, even now. But she'd received polite 'I don't know anything's' and got nowhere. This had been just after the funeral. It had been several weeks since then. Ria was still grieving.

"This friend reckoned there was more to the story. He had heard things. He wasn't there at the time but he knew someone who was, who had talked to him and he'd squeezed into a debrief, or somethin'. He told her the shoot might not have been as straightforward as she was lead to believe, for the interest of national security."

Gillian reached out to grab his wrist, pulling him to a standstill. "Friendly fire?"

"No, some _otha_ foreign national shootin' at the guy he was doin' security for."

"Why is that a big secret?"

"I guess it depends on who the foreign national with a gun was," Cal noted.

Gillian's chin came up a little, which could have been pride, but Cal knew was resignation. "I see," she said. Cal stood and waited. So was he in trouble with his wife? "And so Ria can't get anymore answers from the Secret Service and how do you fit in?"

"She thinks I have contacts or fava's that I won't cash in on."

While it was true Cal did cultivate relationships with various government departments, the Secret Service was not a door he had a foot in.

"Nor will I go down there and needlessly shake some people down."

"Hm," Gillian noted.

"You know?" Cal asked because for some reason he wanted to know his wife wasn't mad at him over this. Not this of all things. Other things, yeah, he probably deserved, but... Gillian was close to Ria at the moment, helping her deal with her husband's death and she would be pissed off with him if he wasn't understanding and helpful to his employee.

Gillian nodded and gave his hand a shake. "Don't take it personally."

"I didn't. Until she narked," he pouted.

"Is that why you're hiding in your office?"

"Yes."

Gillian smiled. "I'll talk to her. Explain... Try to get her to... Calm down." She paused, thinking things through, a little thoughtful frown forming. "Can you keep an eye on the boys?"

"Easy trade off," Cal responded, giving her a quick kiss. He pushed the sliding door back and found the boys on the couch, eating cut up pieces of fruit from their plastic containers. Lewis offered another to Owen, who took orange wordlessly. Such good boys. Such a good mother. Ria would probably listen to Gillian.


	73. Chapter 73

Kent gave Cal's arm a slight nudge and when he had his attention signed 'I really appreciate you doing this with me.'

Cal gave a nod. "Of course," he responded. "That's what friends are for."

Kent gave a pleased kind of smile before the worry set in again. Kent's blood cell count was down on his last check up and his doctor had wanted him back in for more tests. They were there today to get the results. Kent's mother was out of town and the young man didn't want to bother her with what he passed off as 'routine' tests. When Cal found out the young man was going through 'something' he had volunteered to go with him, moral support and all that, and Kent had gratefully taken him up on it. No matter how long Kent had been dealing with cancer (and Cal still didn't know what type or really even how long the poor guy had been dealing with it), it was still scary; it was still his entire life in the balance.

Cal looked around the waiting room and tried not to fidget, which he knew Kent would pick up on. The other man was adept at reading body language as well; he had to be as a signer, it was an interpretive language. Cal took a breath, calming himself down again. This could so easily be an appointment for himself. Every time he went in for a check up he was nervous and half preparing for the worst. For an entire year he managed to forget his mortality, only to be reminded so sharply of it again when that annual appointment came around again. It wasn't just the cancer, but the head injury too, because then he had forgotten all about the disease and now it served as a double reminder.

Distraction, Cal decided on, was the best way to ease nerves. Trick the mind into thinking about something else. He didn't want to get into all the reasons why Kent's cell count would be down. Any reason was not going to be a positive conversation. Cal turned to his young friend, aware the old woman sitting across from them probably thought Kent was his son, which was amusing in some ways but also made Cal feel... kind of weird inside... Cal reached out to place his hand on Kent's shoulder and the young man turned his head towards Cal again, attentive. The old woman also didn't know sign language, luckily for Cal. Or at least her little 'confusion' facial expressions suggested she didn't know what their hands were discussing. Cal signed 'talk', finger-spelled Lewis and 'babies' 'how' 'made', then pointed to himself to indicate just who it was that was going to have the conversation with Lewis about how babies were made.

Kent gave Cal a bemused expression.

Cal added: 'book' 'get' and finger-spelled 'Gill'.

Kent asked: 'book?'

Cal nodded and added 'amazing'.

Kent smiled, then he shook his head while pointing to himself, then signed 'book'.

Cal agreed with him. He hadn't had a book either for the conversation. What conversation? Most of his knowledge about babies and sex had come from Thomas and friends and later, when he was older, by trial and error. Unfortunately. His mother sometimes told him a few things, but only if they were tame, like 'Mrs So-in-so is having another baby and she'll be tired' and 'babies drink milk Calvin' and 'babies come from the lady'. His father's 'sex talk' basically consisted of 'don't get anyone pregnant you scamp', which he'd received at fourteen, along with a clip around the back of the head. Not a lot of details there. How Thomas knew certain things Cal had never really figured out, but it must have been from his friends or books or TV or perhaps, magazines.

Kent asked what kind of book Gillian was getting. Cal gave a shrug and signed 'pictures'. Kent laughed and slapped a hand in Cal's direction, making him also smile; 'no way, I don't believe you'.

Distraction. Sorted.

'No seriously,' Cal added. Gillian had found a book with pictures, which she had ordered online from a reputable parenting tools and accessories site. Actually, that was really amusing, a book with pictures about how babies were made, for children, Cal could only imagine, and he laughed again. Kent grinned brightly. Cal pointed to Kent, added 'Mum', 'talk' and 'how?'

Kent shook his head with disdain, rolled his eyes heavily and sighed. He signed 'good' while shaking his head vigorously for 'not good', before explaining it was incredibly awkward for the both of them. His mother had told him when he was ten and had already pieced most things together. Kent surmised it was probably because she was hoping a guy would talk to him but no one had ever stuck around long enough to take on any fatherly responsibilities. Then Kent went on to add the puberty talk was way worse and that his mother had never dared to get back to him about sex but a box of condoms had appeared on his bathroom counter one morning when he was seventeen.

Cal thought that was sad, that the boy's mother didn't feel she could talk to her son about something that was kind of fundamental to growing up and their relationship as mother/son. But then he knew, without prying, that Kent and his mother had an emotional rollercoaster-styled relationship, compounded by cancer and coming out of the closet. It was tough for a single parent. Cal was glad he had Gillian, a partnership; their talk with Lewis wasn't exactly going to be easy and he was not looking forward to it, but then, he didn't have to do it alone. Between the two of them they should cover all the bases and share out the awkwardness, if there was any. Then there would be puberty chats and sex and then the same, all over again, with Owen.

The old woman opposite them, who Cal could feel was staring intensely while they talked with their hands only, was called to her appointment and Cal could sense Kent's energy changing back to tension. The distraction was distracted. Redirect.

"How did you know you were gay?" Cal asked conversationally.

Kent watched him for a moment, his face neutral, but Cal could see the little flicker of muscles around his mouth that said he wanted to talk about it and the tilt of his chin that said he was kind of pleased Cal had asked. He gave a shrug and signed 'knew' and 'forever'.

Cal nodded.

Kent turned in his seat and went on, his hands moving rapidly so that Cal had to focus on what he was saying. He told Cal that he knew he didn't like girls from a young age and had more of an affinity towards guys, pop-stars and actors but didn't know what being gay was. His mother never talked about it, it wasn't particularly prominent in his household and he didn't know anyone who was gay. Because he was deaf, his mother had sheltered him from a lot. He didn't go to a regular school until he reached high school age and suddenly there were other boys his age who were beautiful and some of them were 'out' and so confident, so not afraid of who they were. Kent told Cal how he idolised them but still didn't quite figure out who he was for a while. Then he decided to just go with it and ever since then he's felt a lot better about himself.

Cal waited for Kent to sit back a little, to indicate he had finished and pointed to him then signed 'story' and gave a thumbs up. Kent gave a slight smile. Cal added 'admire' and pointed to Kent again, meeting his eye and holding it so the young man would get the point. Kent's smile went a little bashful and he raised a hand to brush the comment away. Cal knocked his hand down to 'shut him up'. He made his face insistent and signed 'seriously'. He pointed to Kent again, firmly this time, and signed 'sweet', 'confident' and 'caring' and that Cal was 'proud' to call him a 'friend'.

Kent suddenly looked a bit like he might cry.

Cal nodded to make sure there was no argument. He had probably taken this conversation a bit far but... oh well... it was actually the truth. The memory of meeting Kent was a little hazy but Cal could still recall the vulnerable kid from just over two years ago compared to this endearing young man now. A lot had changed for Kent and Cal was glad he was the kind of young adult in his orbit now. He had learnt things from Kent, not just about signing, but being secure in his own sexuality, about how to be a mentor to an older boy, which he hoped would keep in him good stead when Lewis was a teenager. He wanted to guide but be a friend and Kent had allowed him to do that, to learn and practice and in return, he figured he was a bit like that father figure the kid so desperately wanted and needed.

Kent pointed to Cal this time and signed 'man' and 'good'. He added something about being like Cal when he got older and Cal told him to shut up, with a laugh, giving his shoulder a shove, like Kent had told a really good joke. Kent laughed a bit, helping Cal shake off the tension between them. Far too heavy a conversation for where they were, or really for how long they had known each other, even if they had gotten closer over the years. Close didn't mean inappropriate though, Cal had never felt he had to remind Kent that he was married or straight or anything along those lines... it really felt like a father/son kind of thing but Cal couldn't claim that could he? That wasn't right. Kent's father wasn't dead and Cal shouldn't really encroach on someone else's territory. Kent's mother might not even like it; he was only eighteen.

A nurse came to get Kent and Cal gave him a nudge to indicate it was time for him to go. Worry clouded the young man's face again and he stood. Cal grabbed his wrist and gave it a squeeze of encouragement and that was all that was needed. Kent nodded and straightened back his shoulders and left with the nurse. And Cal went back to waiting, hoping that everything was fine. A low count could merely mean Kent had not been well with some sort of infection that his body was fighting off at the time of the first test. The second one could show in reality, he was just fine. He had been in remission just as long as Cal now. Cal wanted him to be fine.

He took out his phone but there weren't any messages. He wondered if he thought about it hard enough Gillian would text him. Sometimes that worked, but only if he gave her a passing thought. After a few minutes of nothing Cal put his phone away. He could text her first, of course... but he didn't really have anything to say and there were only so many 'I love you' texts he could send before the impact of them wore off. Better to keep them random and rare; that made them more special, even if he meant it every time he thought it.

Cal thought about Lewis again and the talk they were going to have with him about babies. Gillian was pregnant and the conversation was overdue. They had been too distracted with other crap to make sure the kid had a smooth transition. Gillian had grand plans though. She loved that website of hers. It gave plenty of pointers about how to broach subjects with children. Lewis tended towards wanting all the answers even if he didn't entirely comprehend them. Cal had had to explain to him how sheep's wool became jersey's even though he was pretty sure Lewis didn't know what 'shearers' were or really understood how the wool could be cut off without butchering the animal. A haircut didn't quite explain it enough apparently. So Cal told him all of it but really, the kid was three, how much of it got through?

"Cal."

Cal turned his head, recognising the voice immediately, those slightly distorted under-formed sounds. Kent was grinning ear to ear; he was excited, ecstatic. Cal knew it was good news before Kent bothered to sign it, which he didn't. He was getting to his feet as the young man approached and without thinking put his arms around his shoulders and upper arms tightly in an embrace; he slapped his back. Kent hugged him in return and they broke apart and Cal offered him his hand with a smile. Kent gripped it expertly, still smiling widely.

'Congratulations,' Cal signed.

Kent's grin went wider.


	74. Chapter 74

When Cal pulled into the garage and cut the engine he heard Lewis release his own seatbelt behind him and pop his car door open. Cal turned his head to see Owen was asleep on the other side of the car, his head lolled back against the seat to one side. His hand was still gripped around his juice box but it was loose and the beverage was tilted at an extreme angle. Lewis had already gone inside so Cal got out and went around to Owen's side, carefully opening the door even though the slam of his big brother exiting the vehicle hadn't roused him. Cal took the juice box and put it on the roof of the car, then leaned back in to unclip Owen's belt and slowly manoeuvre him out of it. The boy stirred as Cal tucked hands beneath to lift him. The kid was getting heavy; he was five.

"Shh, it's all right buddy, we're home," Cal murmured to him, adjusting him in his arms to get a less awkward grip. "I'm gonna take you to bed ok? Go back to sleep." Owen turned his head into his father's chest and Cal turned to go inside, taking careful steps because he couldn't see his feet and there were stairs. Gillian met him in the hallway, her face a mix of sympathy and 'awww'. "Your dinna's in the car," Cal told her. Fast food burgers for the boys so they could eat straight away. Thai for the adults.

"Thanks," Gillian whispered, smoothing Owen's hair.

Cal went upstairs and put Owen down carefully on his bed. He wasn't back to sleep yet but he kept his eyes closed and frowned against the cold of his sheets. Cal pulled his shoes off and helped him in, tucking the blanket around him again. Owen turned over so his back was to the room and Cal watched him drop like a stone back into slumber. He went and pulled the bedroom curtains closed, kicked a plastic toy on his way out that clattered loudly into another plastic toy, and cursed gently under his breath. He left the door open a little before heading downstairs again.

Gillian had set their dinner up on the table, two plates, chopsticks, and the boxes of Thai open for him. She had already started and when he approached she raised eyebrows in silent question: is Owen asleep? Cal nodded and sat. Lewis was, Cal looked around surprised. Where was Lewis? Gillian indicated the breakfast bar and when Cal turned he could see the ten-year-old crouched behind the bar stools, where he had a hut, or fort, or something going on. He had a game set up and was rearranging army figurines for some sort of siege. Cal turned again in his seat. Gillian was serving up rice for him.

"Did you have a good day then?" Cal asked, reaching for another box.

"Uh huh," Gillian agreed. Between them they piled a plate for him.

"Oh wait, the surprise?" Cal lifted gleeful eyes to her.

Gillian gave him a smile. "It's still going to have to wait."

"Aw come on," Cal complained softly, breaking the join on his throw away chopsticks.

"It's not for small eyes," Gillian tried.

Cal felt his heart beat a little funny. He positioned the small lengths of wood against his finger and thumb. "It's naughty isn't it?" He asked even quieter. Gillian shook her head, then gave a shrug, her mouth full. Cal gave a little groan and started his own meal.

After dinner Lewis followed his mother around to tell her all about the air show. He simulated the display of the Naval air forces and described the other planes they had seen. Cal lay himself down on the two-seater couch, opposite his wife and son, and listened to Lewis's excited tone of voice. He started to drift, his stomach full, his body warm, content and peaceful.

"Dad?"

"Hm?" He pried his eyes open.

Lewis was leaning over him. "It's time for you to go to bed." He gave an amused smile as he rested his head against his palm.

"Is it now?" Cal responded, sitting up a little.

Gillian was standing nearby. "Come on," she coaxed. "Come to bed honey."

Cal sat up a little further. Lewis was in his pyjamas. Cal swung his legs over the end of the couch and got up. He and Lewis had goodnight hugs and then Gillian took him up to bed while Cal put the lights out and made sure the door was locked and the house secure. He brushed his teeth and got into bed himself, still feeling half asleep as he moved around. Whatever naughtiness Gillian had planned to tease him with might just have to wait for the morning. Or perhaps tomorrow night.

"Owen's still out of it," Gillian announced as she came into their room. She turned to click the bedroom door closed.

Cal opened his eyes again to watch her cross to the bathroom. "He faded pretty fast toward the end."

Gillian put the bathroom light on and disappeared. When she came back she had her toothbrush in hand. "It was a long day."

"Lots of walkin' around," Cal added as Gillian stuck the brush in her mouth. "He had a lot of fun though."

"So did Lew, by the sound of it," her words were garbled around toothpaste. She disappeared again. Cal heard the water run in the sink and then she was back, putting the light out.

"What did you get up to today then?" Cal prompted.

Gillian gave him a smile from her dresser where she was taking her clothes off. She turned her back on him and reached into a drawer for a clean shirt to sleep in while she talked. The expanse of her skin was smooth and Cal watched attentively. She turned as she was pulling the clothing down and he could see her flat stomach before it disappeared under baby pink.

"I went to get my hair coloured," she finished.

"Fail," Cal responded with a slight wince. He hadn't noticed. "Sorry. It's nice."

Gillian gave him a smirk as she climbed onto the mattress, leaning forward towards him to shift the blankets out of the way. "I'll let you off that one because you're tired." Cal lifted a hand to draw her in for a kiss and she complied, but it was quick. She sat next to him on the mattress, the blankets around her thighs. "And I had a friend over for coffee. Then I went shopping."

"Sounds like a good day," Cal turned on to his side towards her.

"I have something to show you."

"Oh Gill, I'm kinda tired now."

"Yeah not _that_," she responded. "Something else. But you have to open your eyes for it."

Cal did so and looked up at her and she had this look on her face that was proud of herself and gleeful. He could see her hair had been cut too, it was just that little bit shorter, and she tended to streak blonde highlights through the strands now too because it lessened the impact of the grey. Gillian lifted the edge of her shirt and pulled down her underwear to show him a picture. On her skin.

"Is that a tattoo!" Cal felt his heart spike in surprise. He shoved himself up on an elbow and brought his right hand in to push her back a bit so he could see in the light properly.

"Yeah. It's a fairy," Gillian surmised, leaning back on her right elbow to let him look.

"Why'd you?" Cal started, pulling her underwear further to get a look at it. The entire thing was royal blue, which stood out fantastically against her pale skin. The wings showed veins and were shaped like a butterfly's and the body was on its side, in profile, an arm thrown back, one leg bent and balanced as if the fairy was flying over her hip. It was the size of an apple.

"I thought it was cute."

Cal looked up at her again. "I meant, why'd you all of a sudden get one? And not tell me? I would've come with you."

Gillian gave a shrug. "I know but I just kind of decided yesterday."

"Sneaky," Cal responded and shifted further up to give her a kiss.

"Do you like it?" She murmured against his mouth.

"It's a cute image and it's sexy as hell on you," he growled.

Gillian gave a pleased laugh. Her hand came to his jaw, smoothing against the roughness there as he kissed her again, slowly and warmly. "I'm glad."

Cal shifted back and grinned, to show he _was_ pleased and then lifted her shirt to study it again. The top of the wings and the head of the little fey creature were visible above the line of her underwear. He was going to spend so much time looking for or it or noticing it... it was going to drive him wild. And oh in the morning he was going to see her naked in the shower...

"Don't think I'm gonna be able to sleep now," Cal muttered, lying back against his pillow. Gillian gave another light laugh and shifted down so she was lying against him. She gave a slight wince and moved a little, adjusting her weight on her hip and then put an arm over his chest, hugging him. "Did it hurt?"

"Yes of course."

"I would've held your hand."

"I liked going by myself."

"Yeah," Cal agreed because sometimes it was just nice to have some alone time, without the boys and even without Gillian there. He closed his eyes again. "Very sexy," he reiterated.

"The tattoo?"

"Yes. And you. In general. New hair cut and all."

"Oh you noticed, how sweet," Gillian responded dryly.

Cal chuckled. "Fallin' asleep. Sorry luv."

"That's ok. You've had a big day."

"Naughty things tomorrow."

"Definitely," Gillian agreed.


	75. Chapter 75

"Daddy what's that?"

Cal looked down to see where his son was pointing. Right at his groin.

Oh.

So... it was that magical time... "That's my penis," Cal answered, raising his voice over the sound of the shower so his hard of hearing son could understand him; if he blurted out 'penis' too loud Gillian would come in to see what was going on. "Where's your penis?" He shaped his hands into a 'wh' question. Most body parts were simply named by pointing at them but he didn't really want to encourage a lot of 'private part' attention.

"There!" Lewis pointed gleefully to his own groin.

"Great work," Cal muttered and turned to wash under his other arm. He had to be careful not to stand on a toy and not to let the soap run into his practically-three-year-old's eyes. When he was finished he turned back so he wasn't hogging all the water. It was better to keep Lewis in front of him too, so he didn't accidentally stand on the kid. He felt a hand on his thigh though that made him cautious, then had to grab Lewis's other hand before he could touch Cal any more. "No," Cal told him firmly. "That's my private parts. No one touches my private parts but me." He shook his head and pointed to himself in the chest.

And Mum.

"Just like no one touches yours. Except Mum or me or someone who's helpin' you clean up. Right?" Clean was signed the same way as 'nice', brushing the flat fingers of the right hand over the flat palm of the left. When Lewis didn't answer Cal asked him again. Lewis nodded but Cal wasn't sure he understood. Or maybe the shower was too noisy. They had talked about this before, at other times when Lewis was curious about his body. It was only in the shower he tended to be curious about someone else's. Cal figured that was because he could see the differences. It was hard to notice when people were wearing clothes. Cal put the soap back in the dish.

Lewis had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Mum doesn't have penis."

Cal wondered if Lewis was actually talking to him. He didn't appear to be... but sometimes it was hard to tell. Lewis looked up at him. "Your penis verr big."

Cal chuckled. "Yeah."

"Mine verr little."

"That's because I am big," Cal decided to explain, making a 'large' gesture. He didn't always have to wait for a direct question to get involved. "And you are little." He made a 'small' gesture, then leaned down a little and held up his hand. Lewis did the same, pressing his much smaller hand against his father's palm. "See?" Cal pointed to his eyes and then to their hands. "You're small and I'm big. One day you'll be big too."

"Big as you?"

"Yep," Cal nodded. Probably. Perhaps bigger.

"Out!" Lewis suddenly announced, grabbing his right hand with his left and pulling it up and free again, heading for the door.

Cal pushed it open for him and let him out, calling for Gillian, who came into the doorway a second later. "Hi little guy are you ready to get out?" She crossed her fingers, then moved them towards each other and away again.

Cal closed the door again and finished his shower. He stepped into the bedroom, rubbing a towel over his hair. He had another wrapped around his waist. On the bed, Gillian was dressing Lewis, getting him to push his hand through the hole of his shirt. He was chattering away, loving the sound of his own voice now that he had discovered it, even though he didn't have his hearing aids on yet.

Lewis usually had showers or a bath before bed but he insisted on following his father in this morning. Gillian was dressed for work, hair and make-up done. They'd eaten already and made lunches. Gillian nudged Lewis to stand on the bed and helped him with his undies and trousers. Cal ditched towel number one to pull on a white undershirt; it was cold in winter, especially if he was roaming around outside. He ditched the second towel to pull on underwear of his own. Lewis jumped from the bed with a thud. "Daddy's got a penis!"

Cal turned surprised and caught a similar expression on Gillian's face. Lewis raced out of the bedroom door and Gillian raised an eyebrow in question. "We were talkin' about it in the showa," Cal offered.

"About your penis?" Gillian clarified and she looked a little amused.

"Well... sort of."

"I guess he's that age," she mused, picking up the towels from the bed.

"Yeah he needs the chat about private parts," Cal rolled on deodorant.

"You didn't cover that in the shower?" Gillian disappeared into the bathroom.

"Well I started to but I don't think he could hear me very well," Cal headed across the room to find a clean shirt from the wardrobe and his trousers.

"I thought you talked to him about that another time?"

"I did," Cal confirmed as he slipped his trousers on, turning to see his wife lean against the end of the bed.

"Maybe it needs reinforcement."

"Hm," Cal agreed but he had no idea. He was used to 'winging' it, whereas he expected Gillian to know things. She had worked with children in the past, she must have read up; she had certainly encountered her fair share of problem parents. Cal did up his trousers as his wife approached. She pushed past him to get to the wardrobe, stepping into heels. She turned, his height now, and gave him a quick kiss. Cal smiled and she returned it and wandered off, looking thoughtful.

Cal always left first because Gillian took Lewis to day care and he didn't start until nine. Cal was at the office by eight thirty and he was keen to get going. He headed straight for the lab, where his minions should be working on finding leads in their case. Ria was there, at a computer, overseeing a web search. "Where's Loke-a?" Cal greeted.

Ria turned, a little startled. "Ah he just went back to his office to get something."

Cal stared at her for a moment. Seriously, sometimes, when people lied, he was really surprised they even bothered. "He's late then?" Cal asked rhetorically. "What have you got?"

"So far not a lot," Ria mused.

"Not helpful," Cal turned and walked out of the lab again. He went to his office and picked up the phone from its cradle. He dialled Loker's number. It rang a few times and then he answered it.

"Loker here."

"Loke-a here, you're late," Cal told him and hung up again. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it loosely over the back of his chair. There was mail on his desk and he picked it up, flicking through for something important. Nothing interesting. Emails would wait. He was enthusiastic about their case right now. A missing person. Not really missing. Their client was searching for her father who had disappeared fifteen years ago. Gillian had agreed to take the case and Cal had agreed that it should be passed on to someone else in the building to look into. They had found some interesting quirks, people who were lying about the man's whereabouts and strange occurrences of midnight phone calls and strangers at the door. That's when Cal had heard about it. Apparently there was a lot more to this Keith James than their client knew about her father and Cal was interested now in solving the mystery. He did like a good challenge.

When Gillian arrived at the office Cal was in the lab looking at old footage of Keith. "Our staff have that look."

"What look?" Cal turned to her with a frown. Through his glasses her face was in sharp focus. Beautiful.

"The 'scared of the big bad wolf' look," Gillian grabbed a seat and wheeled it over before sitting in it. Cal watched her, his amused expression on display. "Are you huffing and puffing?" Gillian went on.

"I've not done anythin'," Cal answered.

"Then why are you sitting in here alone?"

"Perhaps I like the peace and quiet."

"Huh," Gillian neither disagreed or acquiesced She looked up at the large display screen. "What are you looking at?"

"A video."

"Ha funny," she responded dryly. "If you'd rather be alone," she started to say, shifting her hands to push out of her chair again.

Cal grabbed her wrist and spun the chair further around so she was forced back down. She gave him a quick surprised expression. "You can stay," he told her.

"Did I need your permission?"

"You're quick today with the shutdowns," Cal noted.

Gillian gave him a smirk. "I'm feeling energised."

Cal gave her a frown. "Did you have another coffee afta I left you?"

"No. But I had a good night's sleep."

Cal feigned offence.

"Because someone left me alone," Gillian went on with a bright smile, even though he had already figured it out.

"This from the person who won't leave me alone," Cal muttered, spinning around in his chair again. "You're pullin' the wolf's tail."

A hand smoothed against the back of his head and Gillian leaned in close. Cal turned his head to see her, her face starting to distort through his glasses now. "Aw," she pouted. "I'm sorry. You pick on our staff, I pick on you, such is the way of the world."

Cal gave a chuckle. "You're a funny one."

"So what are we looking at?" Gillian asked him again.

"James," Cal answered.

"From nineteen eighty two?"

"Somethin' like that yeah," Cal confirmed. "See this?" He went back a little bit and froze the image.

Gillian got up to get closer to the large screen across the room. "It's... is that contempt?"

"I don't think so," Cal responded although now all he had a view of was her backside. Not complaining. "It doesn't quite engage into a full contempt expression. No otha movement of muscles."  
>Gillian turned back to him. "So then it's?"<p>

"I think it's a quirk of his."

Gillian took her seat again. She considered what he'd said. "So you think it will help you find him?"

"Well if we manage to haul someone in we're pretty sure his him but can't recognise him because he was horrifically scarred for some reason and all his fingaprints are burnt off or somethin', if his mouth and jaw muscles were still intact, yeah, I think I'd be able to identify him based on that."

Gillian gave him an amused expression. "Facial recognition software would be great."

"And access to all the lights, camera's, ATM's, CCTV," Cal added.

Gillian gave a little sigh. "Maybe next Christmas."

"I'll be good."

She gave him a smile. "All right. I'm going to go liaise with the rest of our staff."

"All right," Cal agreed.

"Uh Doctor Lightman?" Heidi entered the lab and he turned to face her, eyes questioning. She looked unsure. "There's a police detective here to see you."

Gillian looked up at Cal expectantly, who stood half way across the room going over footage of their best twenty matches, from acquaintances and family friends to someone who knew someone who could be Keith James. The men were all roughly the same height, same build, same basic face structure, but the computer couldn't make a match. It was possible James had had work done, or a few mis-healed fractures. It was the quirk of his lip that Cal was interested in and looking for. Even if the clips were just fifteen seconds long, it was enough. Some of them were poor quality, from street cameras and Loker was in the process of cleaning them up as best he could. It felt like they were getting closer. And now... some cop was there about... who knew what?

"What does he want?" Cal asked before making a move. He might get away with getting Heidi to politely tell the cop to bugger off.

"He asked to speak to whoever was in charge," Heidi responded.

Cal pointed to his wife. "That'd be you luv," and he turned back to his footage. He heard the two women leave but didn't break his focus. This was the best lead they had for actually finding James. So far they had enough reports that he was still alive, was somewhere actually in DC and was involved in weapons trafficking. But while people were willing to let slip they knew of James being alive, no one seemed to entirely know his whereabouts. They had gone out on several wild goose chases only to come back empty handed. This time, they were going to take a chance on that lip quirk.

"Where's this one from?" Cal pointed to the screen.

"Uh a warehouse," Ria started.

"When," Cal cut her off. "From when?"

"Yesterday."

"I wanna go there," Cal pointed to the screen. He started heading for the door and heard the scramble of his protégé as she gathered together the things they would need if she had understood him correctly. He wanted to go out to the warehouse and make a visual for himself. As Cal strode towards the exit of his business, he thought about stopping for Gillian, then remembered she was dealing with a cop, somewhere he couldn't see, probably her office, and it would only slow him down to go and see what it was about. She could call him about it later. And catch them up if she wanted to.

**PJ**

Cal sat in the passenger seat of Ria's SUV, his eyes glued to the portable miniature screen in his lap. Ria had a camera trained on the men working in front of the warehouse, breaking down boxes to be piled into a skip bin. They weren't in a rush and they didn't seem bothered by the SUV parked just slightly down the road, which hadn't moved for the last five minutes. They'd had actually been there for ten minutes before that, waiting for some signs of life.

"A sedan just pulled up behind us," Ria noted.

Cal gave a grunt of acknowledgement. This required concentration. He had to wait for the target to turn towards the road, towards the SUV where Cal sat waiting, towards the camera trained on his face. Ria could see enough to make small adjustments but mostly she sat still and Cal was impressed she didn't grumble about her arm getting numb. She kept the camera pretty steady too. His little minion... he had trained her well...

The man who Cal was pretty sure was James turned towards the camera, obviously watching the street for a second. Cal felt suddenly exposed but knew they couldn't be seen, not this far away, which must mean he was looking at the car that had pulled up behind them. Cal heard a car door. Then his phone started ringing and before he could reach for it there was a tap on the glass of his window. He looked up at the same time Ria uttered an 'uh oh'.

A badge was pressed up against the glass and a tall dark haired man was leaning in to look through the window, right at Cal. "Step out of the vehicle please."

Cal kept his gaze at his neutral-borderline-hostile expression. He handed the portable screen to Ria and indicated the cop should step back so he could open the door. The guy was tall, at least six foot three and the rest. Cal had to look up at him and tried not to look across the road at James. They were so busted. But doing what? He was pretty sure he hadn't done anything illegal. Cal's phone continued to ring in his jacket pocket. "Can I get that?"

"No. Can I see some ID?"

"What for? What have I done?"

"ID," the cop repeated.

"Are we parked illegally?" Cal looked over to see another man was asking Ria to step out of her side of the car too.

"Sir, I'm going to ask you one more time. I need to see some ID."

Cal's phone stopped ringing and it was suddenly silent on the street. Cal could see Ria was handing over her ID and he felt the need to tell the cop to stick it and cause a big scene but he refrained. Gillian would be mad if he had to spend the night in the cells. So he indicated he was going to reach into his pocket for his wallet. The cop waited patiently but Cal could see the tension in him, the desire to reach for his gun. Cal gave the cop his wallet, which had his driver's license in it. Ria was brought to wait not too far away. She didn't look particularly bothered and Cal was proud again of how she was handling this bizarre situation.

"Doctor Lightman. I'm going to have to ask you to come with us."

"Are you kiddin'?" Cal blurted. "Have I done somethin'?"

"I'd like to talk to you at the station," the cop indicated to his partner that Ria could go.

"Oi, hold on," Cal protested as he was taken by the elbow. He wasn't worried, he was getting freaking annoyed. "You can't just manhandle me."

"I'm asking you politely," the cop's expression was stern, making him look like a predatory bird. "You can accompany us willingly or I can arrest you for obstruction of justice."

"Obstruction?" Cal repeated disbelievingly. "Un-bloody-believable."

Ria started her vehicle and pulled away without a second glance. If Cal knew her she was going to go straight to Gillian to rat the police out. Cal turned towards the sedan and got in the back. Pissing people off was his specialty and he didn't like it in particular when he was annoyed and no one else was. He schemed in the back, about all the ways he was now going to make this interview purposefully impossible. And he was going to have to call Gillian... actually... Cal pulled his phone from his pocket. The missed call was, as he suspected, from his wife. But there wasn't a voice mail or a text message and Cal was debating calling her back when the car pulled into an underground parking garage. He was let out of the back and escorted inside. Instead of heading to an interview room though, the tall plain clothes cop took him to a different room, with comfortable furnishings... Cal did a quick scan for cameras and couldn't see any. But that didn't mean there weren't any there. Absence of evidence was not evidence of absence.

The door closed and Cal rounded on the officer who immediately raised his hands in a sign of parley. He had Cal's wallet in his hand and Cal darling reached out to snatch it back. "Doctor Lightman thank you for your cooperation."

"You can cram it," Cal blurted.

The cop looked surprised. "Let me explain. We're investigating the same man. Keith James. He's wanted for a series of murders." Cal stopped, mouth slightly open for his next retort, which died on his tongue. "My name is Aiden Fox-Boycott. I'm a homicide detective."

"Murda?" Cal queried warily. That had not come up in their investigation at all. Cal took a seat and the detective sat opposite him.

"We're incredibly interested in what you know about him. Have you located him?"

"What do you think I was doin' on the street with a camera trained on a warehouse you pillock," Cal retorted. The detective blinked, surprised. "Wasn't havin' a picnic."

"He was there?"

"I suspect so but you interrupted before I could be sure."

"We've been looking for Mr James under an alias, Kevin Jones."

Cal gave a nod. "Yeah but he's not used that name for six months."

"We spoke to your business partner, Doctor Foster."

Cal cringed at the use of that name. "Oh yeah, and what did she tell you?"

**PJ**

Back at the lab, there were now extra bodies sitting and watching. Aiden Fox-Boycott had explained his end of the deal, and Gillian had told him about the Lightman Group's end of the deal and now everyone was on the same page. They were after the same man, initially for different reasons, but now with the same goal in mind: get him in police custody. Murder trumped a missing family member. Gillian was on the phone with their client right now, explaining the turn of events and Cal had agreed to help the homicide detectives seated down the row from him in making a positive ID.

The footage Ria had managed to shoot before she was asked to move on was actually pretty fantastic and Cal was able to observe long seconds of the man's face, who they suspected was James; who Cal was pretty confident he could either identify as the right guy, or at least positively rule him out. The door to the lab opened and Gillian came back in, heading to the right of the chair Cal was slumped in. "She's willing to let the police take the lead on this one."

"Great," Cal murmured. "Go back," he told Eli.

"I offered to return our fee," Gillian went on.

"You what?" Cal leaned forward to look up at her.

"But she refused," Gillian finished. "So that is that," she walked away to take a seat of her own. Cal saw the detective's eyes follow her as she moved and he felt that urge to tell them to back off even though it was just looking and he was not insecure, he was _not_.

Cal focused on the video footage again. "Can you pull it in tighta?" He requested of Eli. The image got larger. James was the man wearing the bright red and black striped shirt. It had taken a bit of explaining but finally the detectives accepted Cal's lip quirk identifier. "There it is," he pointed. Eli froze the feed a split second later and wound back two frames to where it was most prominent.

"You're sure that's him?" Fox-Boycott spoke up.

"Definitely," Cal noted. The printer in the background was already reeling off an image. Gillian went to get it, to make a comparison to the image they had taken from the nineteen-eighty-two footage.

"That's not, something else, like happiness, or something," the detective went on.

Cal gave him an unimpressed expression. "That's not happiness," Cal clarified dryly. He went to the FACS manual kept on the shelf and pulled out the five main images. He showed the detectives again, how the lip quirk was not contempt or any of the other known facial expressions on record. This was an individual trait of this particular man. Cal was sure.

**PJ**

Cal drove while Gillian told him what she had told the detectives when Cal had gone out the first time. "He told me."

"Oh," Gillian suddenly stopped talking. "I tried calling you."

"Was in the process of tryin' to get myself arrested."

Gillian gave a little snort and Cal grinned before glancing over at her. "I'm glad you didn't," she noted.

Cal had not been allowed to go to the warehouse to pick up James. Even after he had argued he would at least be able to identify James properly before cops knocked on the door and alerted him to the fact that he had been located. But it didn't matter, Fox-Boycott, who was the lead on the case, was insistent and had a demeanour Cal found himself not wanting to test. If it came down to a pissing match Cal suspected he would lose. His name might have a wicked reputation but he didn't have a badge and a gun, or cells to keep the people who annoyed him in. So he played their game. He waited at work while local police had arrested James and taken him down to the precinct, and Gillian had gone to pick Lewis up from day care. James went to an interrogation room. Lewis came to work to hang out with Aunt Ria.

The lead detective was already attempting to speak to James when Cal arrived. Fox-Boycott had allowed for them to watch in the viewing room but after ten seconds it was apparent James was just going to keep his mouth shut. He hadn't asked for a lawyer so the detective was within his rights to continue questioning. Cal saw stubborn on a regular basis. What the interview needed was a verbal trip up. It was time to play. He headed out from the viewing room and went next door, to the interrogation.

He closed the door behind him and sat down, both James and Fox-Boycott watching him. "How's it goin'?" Cal asked James, ignoring the detective. James gave a slight nod of his head and that was enough for Cal to have scored points. It was always amusing that a slight deviation from what was expected was enough to throw someone off. Like with Mitchell. "I'm just here to listen in," Cal went on. "So go ahead," he gave a gesture to the police officer next to him, who Cal suspected wasn't quite sure if he should kick Cal out or not.

Aiden went through his questions again, and again James just sat there. At the end, the detective gave a sigh Cal wished he hadn't. That was giving James a bit of an upper hand. "Again," Cal directed the officer.

"Is your name Keith Alexander James?"

James didn't answer but the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile.

"Are you also known as Kevin Jones?"

James remained silent once more but again, that split-second of smile was there. That was good. The interview was being recorded. The cop went through more questions, the yes or no's that James could ignore easily because they were about his name or date of birth or known address. But when the detective asked where he had been for the last fifteen years Cal could see James get uncomfortable. This was the second round of questioning and it was harder to brush off a direct question more than once. James knew what was coming this time and he was already thinking about it. The detective moved on, to the series of bodies found, that all had the same MO, that officers had linked to a hired gun: Jones.

James gave a turn of his head of denial but Cal saw the slight shoulder shrug that suggested he was contradicting himself. Now that Cal saw it, he noticed other little gruff responses to the questions. When the detective got to the end Cal got up and left the room. The officer excused himself and followed. They went to the interrogation room. There was a live feed on a screen and, Cal had noted this before, recording equipment. He tampered for a second until he could wind the footage back a few minutes.

"What are you doing?" Fox-Boycott asked.

"I'm showin' you somethin'," Cal answered. Gillian came to stand next to him. Together they pointed out the twitches that were James's brand of a confirmation. Cal directed the detective to concentrate on those aspects of the questioning and added a few more suggestions that might trick the man into talking. The interesting thing about the detective, aside from his height, was that he seemed to be genuinely listening. He didn't seem sceptical and he certainly wasn't dismissive.

Gillian's phone rang and she answered it quickly. Cal focussed on the interview. James looked unsettled again now that Cal hadn't returned and that was enough for him to start to answer absently. The head nods or shakes became verbal, gruff answers. Cal was pleased. "Hey," Gillian got his attention with a hand on his arm. "That was Ria. She says Lewis is asking for me. So I'm going to head back."

"All right," Cal turned to her. "Give the munchkin a kiss for me."

"I always do," she responded with a smile. "You're all right to find your own way back?" She held out her hand for his car keys; not subtle at all.

"Yep," Cal agreed, handing them over. Gillian gave him a quick kiss and left and Cal went back to watching the interview. It looked like Fox-Boycott was making some progress.

**PJ**

The detective extended a hand. "Thank you for your help Doctor Lightman. You really did all the leg work on this case." He had arrested James after eliciting a confession. A confession was much stronger than all the evidence Cal had put together, or him getting on the stand and testifying with all the video footage he had. Although he was still going to do that when the case when to court. If it went to court. James was talking to his lawyer now.

"And you get all the glory," Cal shook his hand.

Fox-Boycott gave a wry smile, the first Cal had seen. He reached for his wallet in his back pocket and withdrew a card. "I'd be interested in working with you again. Getting your input on other cases."

For whatever reason, which Cal had not quite figured out yet, he liked his guy. Cal took his card. "You know I went to school with a Boycott."

"I'll assume that was a completely different family," the detective responded.

"Maybe not. Could be distant cousins," Cal noted.

Aiden gave another slight smile. "Maybe."

Cal got out his wallet to put the card away and withdrew one of his own. "Could always use a source on the inside," he countered.

The detective gave a nod as he took the offered card. "Does this mean we have an understanding?"

"It means we have an acquaintance," Cal corrected. "I won't make promises but if you called, needin' a hand with somethin'..."

The detective nodded again. "I heard you do training. For your facial expression thing."

"The FACS manual, yeah."

"I might take you up on that sometime."

"Do," Cal agreed. "Till late-a then detective," Cal flicked the card in his hand, twisted his wrist and made it disappear up his sleeve in a smooth motion. He turned and walked away, knowing the detective was trying to work out what it was about Cal that he liked as well.


	76. Chapter 76

"Pick a story then," Cal directed the toddler. Was three still a toddler? Kind of was, even though Owen had got over his annoying tendency to destroy things. He was in regular day care sessions, preparing to go into the pre-kindergarten class and maturing. Lewis was at a sleep over birthday party and it was Owen's bed time. The first time he had gone to bed without his big brother sharing the room. Could be interesting. Cal was prepared for several nocturnal visits.

"This one," Owen approached where his father was sitting on the lower bunk bed. He dumped it in his father's lap, then climbed up and settled beside him. Cal righted the book in his hands, suspecting, but not having it confirmed until he saw the front cover. Well... it was time for this anyway.

"_Where Babies Come From_," Cal read the title. He opened the book and flipped through the first few pages to reach the start of the story. The information? Was it a story? He started reading, holding up the book so Owen could see the pictures. Owen turned the pages, looking at the images intently, but remaining quiet. With the stories he knew well he said the words along with his father. Or at least some of them, the ones he could anticipate. If Cal made up extra words at the end of the page Owen got annoyed. He knew what it was meant to say, even if he wasn't reading it.

Cal read the book cover to cover; explaining all about how babies were made by sperm and ova, by men and women, mum's and dad's. When he was finished Owen gave a little 'oop' and wriggled to the edge of his mattress to get another book. "Wait," Cal stopped him. "Take this one back." He held it out for his son, watching his face, trying to gauge a reaction to the information or not. They talked about babies around him and some of it must have gone in by osmosis. But this was probably the first direct information the kid had heard. Owen snatched it from his grip and came back with one about dinosaurs, slapping it down on his father's legs before climbing back up on the bed for the next story.

Cal read three more books to Owen before tucking him in and kissing him goodnight. He left the door open half way, to let in a bit more light than usual, because his big brother was not there with him. Just in case. Cal headed down the hall to the master bedroom. Gillian was also reading. "Want me to read you a bed time story too?" Cal asked, crawling over the mattress towards her. He settled with his head on her stomach. A hand fell to his hair, scratching against this scalp absently.

"Maybe you should read to me," Cal noted.

"I'm catching up to where you are," Gillian mumbled.

"Guess what bed time stories we had tonight?"

"Hm?"

"We had _Timmy the Tyrannosaurus_ and _The Little Red Engine_."

"Classics," Gillian noted absently.

"Yes and _Where Babies Come From_."

There was a pause, then: "What?"

"Yeah."

"You read it to him?"

"He picked it off the shelf."

"Oh."

Cal turned and sat up, so he was facing his wife, even though her body was warm and soft and the perfect pillow with the gentle rolling of her diaphragm that lulled.

"What did he say? Did he say anything? What did you say?" Gillian also straightened up, her book abandoned.

"He didn't say a word about it and I wasn't sure what I should say if he didn't... start it," Cal gave a shrug. This was different to Lewis. Lewis asked questions and Lewis didn't have a big brother for them to practice on.

Gillian watched him for a moment. "I don't have an answer to that either."

"Maybe he's not bothered," Cal suggested.

"He probably needs time to process," Gillian countered.

Cal threw himself at his pillow. "Is it lights out?"

"Do you want me to read to you or not?"

"All right," he agreed awkwardly undoing his jeans and slipping them down his legs.

"After the earthquake ends."

Cal tossed his jeans to the floor and made a bigger show of taking his shirt off and getting under the covers. He jostled the bed until Gillian was forced to roll into him, laughing. Then they settled properly, her against his bare chest, the book up in her hands so it was in the light, so they both could read it.

**PJ**

"Ow that's my face," Cal's voice woke Gillian. She was curled up on the mattress, her back against her husband's side, facing the windows. She felt him shift and heard him murmur to their three year old to be quiet because 'Mum' was still asleep. So considerate. A squirmy little body settled behind her next and Cal's arm as a buffer.

"You read this Dad," Owen told him, not keeping his voice down at all. Oh well. Like she needed a sleep in.

Cal's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, more like a grumble in his chest that was comforting, reminding Gillian of hearing him in the room next door, when Lewis's room used to be adjacent to theirs, soothing his infant son when he woke up upset.

"Did you like this one?"

"Yup!" Owen announced.

"_Where Babies Come From_," Cal started and Gillian smiled.


	77. Chapter 77

_AN: M rated chapter_

**PJ**

Gillian leaned back in the hot water and finally relaxed. It had been a hell of a long day and this was exactly what she needed. A glass of wine and a bubble bath. It was so quiet in the house she could hear the slight static sound of the bubbles popping around her. She slipped further down in the water, until it filled her ears and she couldn't hear anything at all but her own breath. The surface of the water was obscured by mounds of vanilla and peach scented white foam and she closed her eyes for a moment, adjusting her legs so her skin was beneath the surface of the hot water.

There was a sudden knock on the bathroom door and Gillian jumped a mile, kicking her feet against the end of the bath so she sat up, sloshing the water violently up the side to leave a high tide mark of bubbles. Cal's head appeared first. "Jesus Cal!" Gillian blurted. "You gave me a heart attack."

"I hope not," he responded simply, pushing into the room and closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Gillian watched him head towards her, her heart pounding.

"I said I'd come ova."

"Yeah but... I thought you'd call first." Or something.

Cal gave a shrug and kicked his shoes off. Gillian continued to look up at him as he started to undress. "What are you doing?"

"Thought I'd jump in," Cal answered, pulling his shirt and jersey off in one motion. He stopped and studied her for a second, shirtless. "Unless you wanted to be alone?" But he could clearly see she didn't because he kept going, tossing his clothes to the side and working on his trousers. Gillian watched him get naked and felt a stirring in her groin. No, apparently she didn't want to be alone. Sometimes she hated that she was so obvious to him. He caught her off guard too often. He knew her too well.

They'd been back together a few weeks now and even after she thought they had talked out whatever his problem was, part of her long day had been dealing with _him_. That 'something' that wasn't quite right, it was still there. At work he was closed off and grumpy and aggressive. And when he was with her he was closed off and indifferent and today Gillian was just not in the mood for putting on that sunny demeanour and pretending like everything was fine. She was trying to give him the emotional space to get where he needed to be but she was starting to wonder if he wanted to, or even knew there was a distance between them. Even after they had had that talk.

Sometimes talking was overrated.

Gillian shifted forward to let Cal sit behind her and once he was settled he pulled her back against his chest and belly. They had so rarely done this, had a bath together. Not since that winter with the beautiful ice sculpting; when they had been headed in the right direction. Their break up had not just momentarily stalled their relationship; it seemed to have set them back further than Gillian thought. She wanted to tell him to go home again but she also didn't want to push him further away than he already was. Cal's hands settled at Gillian's hips, low, against the curve of her thighs and she felt an ache roll through her pelvis. She was, by now, aware she was breathing too fast.

She knew better than to push him. And it would be better if he came to find his own peace but god sometimes it really tested her faith. Trust was a matter of faith and maybe today had just been one of those days when it had been sorely tested. But then again, here he was, when she had told him she was going home to soak in the bath and he had said he'd come over later, and she had honestly thought he'd call her later to say he was too tired. This was his house too, technically and she didn't like being in it without him. Not anymore.

Cal's fingers caressed against her skin, causing that ache to burn a little brighter and she wondered if he knew what he did to her; if he knew that all those months apart she had missed him terribly. He pressed his cheek against her ear and he was warm. He stayed that way, half embracing her, for a long moment, and then he turned his head and dropped a kiss against her temple. He lingered against her ponytail; she could feel the press of his nose against her scalp and she knew he was smelling her hair. She took a deep breath, as if on instinct, and the scent of vanilla and peaches from the bubbles filled her nostrils.

Cal raised his left hand to brush against her neck and that was kind of the last straw. Gillian grabbed his other and moved it so his fingers were between her legs. She felt his muscles stiffen around her, surprised. His left hand ceased and she could feel him holding his breath. Gillian couldn't seem to catch hers. "I want you to touch me," she strangled out, grateful that he couldn't see her face right now. She didn't want him to read her, she just wanted him to give her that release from all the tension.

Cal's right hand, that had gone limp under the grip around his wrist, moved of its own volition again. Fingers snaked their way immediately towards her, touching lightly, feeling their way, making Gillian squirm and shift her hips, seeking him out too. He stroked and she shivered again, this time more pronounced, so the water rippled against the edges of the bath. Gillian panted as he brought her to a thundering pounding. She tucked her hands around the edges of his thighs, leaving him to it, holding on. Cal moved his left hand to her right breast, embracing her tightly while he gripped her flesh, brushing a thumb over her nipple; her hips pushed out against him.

He teased and stroked for a long time, slowly building the tempo in time with her heartbeat, working her breast at the same time. Gillian panted and moaned. Her toes curled against the end of the bath with the tension he was creating, her heels pushing against the ceramic, her fingers pressing into the flesh of his thighs. The ach of her pelvis was almost painful and the throbbing unbearable and yet he continued to tease. She wanted to ask him to stop, to make her come and get it over with, but she couldn't find words, he had wound her up that tightly; she didn't know how to work the muscles in her throat anymore.

Not even his name. She couldn't manage a word. Just little 'oh's' and muffled groans that echoed off the bathroom walls. Occasionally she would flinch so hard the water would splash and she could feel how cool it was against her hot flesh now. His hand on her breast was no longer gentle, he held on tightly, squeezing her nipple hard between thumb and forefinger, alternating between that and rubbing his palm against her left breast harshly. She could feel the pressure of him beneath her, the strong lines of the muscles in his body; he was all around her like a shell.

And then finally when she thought she couldn't stand it anymore he pushed his index finger inside her and she cried out, gripping him tighter, pushing herself off his chest a little. His forearm forced her back; his bones did not bend that way. He gave a little grunt and bit her neck as he stroked as deep inside her as he could reach, pressing his chest tight against her back for better leverage. Gillian gasped a breath, not sure when she ended and he began anymore, not even able to fully comprehend that this was the closest she had felt to him in far too long. It felt like an apology; it felt like he was trying again.

Gillian shifted a foot against the end of the bath again, pressing with the flat of her sole, rocking in time to his strokes. She didn't have her eyes open anymore and it felt like she was perpetually falling towards a goal she had forgotten. She groaned again as she wound tighter. It felt like she might snap in two. Cal didn't pick up the pace though, he kept it nice and steady, but he curled his finger up against her, hard, his hand on her breast almost painful and still she built. She built and built and then started to tip and didn't even realise it and then she was crashing down, quivering violently, fingernails seriously gripping on for dear life, feet flat against the end of the bath, pushing, as if she had the strength to shove it away from her.

She threw her head back against his collarbone and her breath caught in her lungs. Her scalp prickled as wave after wave washed over her until it felt like the violent pleasure would never end. She wasn't aware of anything else for a long time, not until she started to feel light headed and opened her eyes to find the bathroom light stabbing at her and Cal's arm disappearing over her stomach. She sucked in a deep breath, felt like she was choking on the hotness of her own body, felt her head start to clear. He continued to stroke her until her muscles gave and she collapsed in his arms and then he almost regretfully eased out of her and she missed him immediately; she ached to have him back already. Her hips quivered for him. She found a tickle of a tear run into her temple and was surprised. She was crying? Or was it just the force of her orgasm that had made it leak out?

She wanted to say something but her brain wasn't working and her mouth wasn't working and she was sure she couldn't feel her body at all, just the rippling echoes of the most violent orgasm... She wasn't even sure she had the correct basis to compare it to; it was in a league of its own. And still she could feel the quiver of her own body delighting in it, revelling, soaking up as much of it as she could get; her body was telling her mind what to do now: get as much of this as possible.

Gillian closed her eyes again, feeling the tightness of Cal's arms holding her, cradling her limp body and she breathed until she felt her arms and legs again. She gave a sigh and Cal leaned his mouth against her, pressing a gentle kiss. He asked her if she was ok.

"I," Gillian started and stopped because nothing else would come out. She nodded instead, feeling like she was regaining control. Her hands were floating in the water, her legs had collapsed wide open.

"Shall we get out now?" Cal asked her gently. If he hadn't been propping her up she would have forgotten he was even there. Gillian nodded again and he shifted her like a rag doll; maybe she wasn't quite ready. "Can you stand?" He wasn't teasing, or stroking his own ego, he was asking politely.

Gillian shook her head. Cal did chuckle then but it was not obtuse. "I can't lift you from the bath," he noted softly against her ear. He kissed her again. He wasn't hard anymore; soft and warm though.

"Sorry," Gillian managed.

"No," Cal cut her off. "No sorry." He was silent for a moment. "I'm glad."

She knew what he meant. He was saying 'I'm glad it was so incredible', 'I'm glad it was too intense for you to recover from yet', 'I'm glad I did my job right'. Oh so right. Gillian sighed again. She thought he'd just have a quick play around, and then she'd... not completely blow her mind. She moved her right hand to the arm still wrapped around her waist, curving her palm over his wrist. Her chest was exposed to the air and she realised all the bubbles had disintegrated. Her flesh was goose-pimpled and she was surprised because she was only just noticing now that she was cold.

Gillian turned her head. She was against his left shoulder and her mouth was within reach of kissing his jaw. Cal turned his head down to look at her and there was something in his eyes that made her feel warm again. That... 'love' expression of his. She wondered again what had suddenly changed, if it had suddenly changed, and the spell was broken abruptly and she could sit up. He helped her, his weight at her back, his hands gentle against her sensitive skin. He stood first, stepped out and grabbed a towel to quickly dry off the worst before wrapping it around his waist. He came back with a second one, giving Gillian his hand to help her stand. Her legs still felt wobbly. And she was partly pissed off that he really was that _damn good_. For a moment he'd made her forget everything but now her brain was functioning and while the tension felt like it was gone, her mind still remembered the actual day.

One incredible orgasm was not going to erase the hurt of the last few months, of being apart and then being together but still so distant.

Cal wrapped the towel around her shoulders, then drew her into a hug. It still felt like an apology and this time Gillian did feel her anger and frustration start to drain away. He held her for a long time, knowing that this was what she needed. Between the bath and this embrace Gillian realised he really did know her so well, not just when her body was craving him, but when her mind was too. Maybe she wasn't being fair. Being annoyed was not going to get her anywhere. He would pick up on it and resent her for it. That wasn't what a good relationship was about. She was allowed to be frustrated, sure, but if he was reaching out to her and she slapped his peace offering away, it would only compound the awfulness for the both of them. It would only make a middle ground harder to find.

Blow her mind. Oh.

Gillian tilted her head back and Cal let her go a little so she could meet his eye. Barefoot he was taller than her so she had to look up just a little, into his pale blues. She gave him a tentative smile and the warmth in his eyes flared. She reached up to put a kiss on his mouth, letting her lips massage over his. When she pulled back he was grinning again, pleased, not gloating, but pleasantly delighted. She liked this side of him. A lot. This was what she wanted. And good behaviour should be encouraged, while the bad ignored. So she took his hand and led him to the kitchen and in towels, they had dinner, periodically embracing each other when they got cold, before curling up in bed. No words, no heavy conversation, just enjoying the evening for what it had actually become: a step forward.


	78. Chapter 78

_AN: M rated chapter_

**PJ**

"Ok bed time!" Gillian announced now the last story had been read. They were piled up in the bed she shared with her husband, three-year-old Owen was in her lap, lying full body against her chest, eight-year-old Lewis was in between her and Cal, cuddled up against her arm. Cal was wrapped around her and their sons, taking his turn to read every alternate book from the stack Owen and Lewis had brought in for story time. Of course, Lewis was starting to outgrow all the picture books. It was Saturday and the boys were allowed an extra fifteen minutes of story time before bed.

"Let's go," Cal shifted away, pulling back the covers to allow the boys space to get out. "Mum will tuck you in."

"Will she now?" Gillian asked him, pushing her youngest off her. He was sticky warm and made her pyjamas damp. Lewis gave his father a hug and kiss goodnight, then grabbed the books. Owen reached up to his father to do the same and Gillian went to the door with her eldest. She took him down to his bed room and watched him put the books back on the shelf while she turned down Owen's bed ready for him. Lewis climb up to his bed and when he was ready he leaned towards her for his hug and kiss. Owen came in behind them and climbed into his own bed. While Gillian hugged and kissed him goodnight and tucked him in with teddy, Lewis removed his hearing aids and put them in their case carefully, then put the case on the little shelf Cal had put up by his bed, where he kept his book, his watch and a clip on lamp. Gillian wished them sweet dreams and headed for the door, putting out the light and pulling the door mostly closed.

She left the hall light on as she headed back to the master bedroom. Saturday night and the kids were in bed? And it was still relatively early? She was smiling as she reached the door and pushed it open, about ready to suggest some naughtiness, and then she saw Cal and she stopped, surprised, her hand slipping off the doorknob. She was stunned actually. Her breath caught and she stumbled against her own feet. Her heart started pounding and he grinned salaciously before sauntering over.

"Aye, aye," he uttered with such arrogance in his tone and expression and body, her stomach flooded with heat and her mouth went dry. The look in his eyes... she felt like she was standing there naked. He reached her and grabbed the door next to her hand, never breaking eye contact and pushing it shut. Gillian felt her heart kick in, pounding and now that he was standing so close to her, she was aware of her arms trembling. The door clicked shut and Cal stepped around her slightly to lock it, his body warmth detectable and sizzling as he leaned close to her. "What do we have here," he murmured and he slapped her backside, hard. She jumped and turned on him but he held her at arm's length; she hadn't even realised she had reached out for him. "What do you think?" He asked, the bravado dropped for a second, the question sincere.

Gillian stood and appraised him, feeling like she was finally getting a hold of herself for functioning thought. He was in his most worn pair of jeans, the denim faded out at the knees, threadbare, and in various patches on the thighs, around the pockets and the cuffs. He had on a white undershirt wife-beater that showed off the lean muscles of his arms and chest, the tattoos merely adding to the look. And on his head was a yellow hard hat, painting shadows across his face. He even had the tool belt. And it was slung low so it seemed nothing was actually holding it up but the slight bulge in the front of his jeans. And she couldn't keep her eyes off him. He looked... hot. Now she understood why he hadn't shaved for a few days.

"It's," she started and gawped instead; he dressed up for her! He grinned and she laughed and stepped forward to crash her lips against his, aiming blindly because she couldn't quite see. She felt Cal smiling beneath her mouth and the hard hat knocked against her hair line as she tried to duck beneath it. Then she felt him grab her roughly and push and turn her and slam her into the wall. Not too hard, but firm enough to make a thud and a little thrill go through her. He started to kiss her harder and tugged at her pyjamas roughly. He grabbed a handful of breast and thrust his tongue at her and she felt the dizzying rush of trying to keep up with him.

His mouth broke from hers and she gulped in cooler air while he nipped at her neck, breaking her rule for leaving a mark. He ground his hips against hers and the friction of the tool belt and rough denim through her thin pyjamas made her legs shake. He turned his cheek to scrape the rough scratch of his jaw against the sensitive skin he had just teased and another shiver went through her. She tried to grab at him but he took her hand and slammed it back against the wall. She wondered where they were exactly but every time she tried to open her eyes he was there and all she caught was yellow plastic. It was better with her eyes closed anyway because she could skip ahead to what was going to happen next...

**PJ**

Cal was actually getting just as much of a kick out of it as he could tell Gillian was. In his mind she was some saucy piece of work just strutted past his construction site wearing a tiny wee skirt, a shirt one size too small and impossible heels and he was going to do her behind the manager's portable office, or a partial external wall. He pushed his hips against his wife's again because he liked that too, feeling her against him; it wasn't quite the same if they weren't horizontal. He stepped closer, careful of her toes beneath his untied boots, and closed the distance between their bodies. He could feel her hot torso through their thin clothing and shifted his hand from her breast to slip beneath, against skin. She gave a little whimper and he was glad; he was doing this all right then.

He nibbled at her neck, roughing up her skin with his stubble, realising belatedly that tomorrow it would leave a red rash and he would probably get in trouble; she might forgive him this once. He moved on, lower, to her collarbone, feeling the pressure of her hand trying to escape his. He stroked a thumb over her nipple, noting it tightening beneath the pad of his digit and heard a moan and was glad again; she was playing along. He didn't want to think about the conversation that had brought his about. He didn't want to think about the last time he had worn a hard hat.

Gillian started pushing back with her hips and her breath got more pronounced and she gave little murmurs of discontent. She was reaching that point... Cal shifted his pelvis back a little to let his hand trail south quickly to her pyjama trousers, pushing inside her underwear, stroking against her. She gave a gasped moan and thrust her hips against him. He teased her, worked her and still held images in his head of fucking her in broad daylight in the middle of a building site. Oh god seriously.

"Fuck I want you," he growled removing his hand to her disgruntled pant and popping open the button of his jeans with his slick fingers. A much trickier move that he counted on. He fumbled for ages, trying to grasp his fly and as he mucked around he felt the sense of urgency in his wife get stronger, as well as her confidence to defy him; she pushed back.

"Hurry up," she groaned at him, raising her other hand to his head, turning the helmet so the small visor was to the side. She drew him in for a searing kiss. It made his knees weak. He stumbled against her, pinning her harder against the wall. They were right beside the door and kind of making a bit of noise. They boys weren't even asleep yet. She wasn't kidding. They had to hurry this the hell up.

Cal let go of her other hand and kept her pinned with a shoulder while he used both hands to free himself from his jeans and underwear. The tool belt slid lower and he could feel the weight of it at the back of his thighs. He reached for Gillian's pyjamas, tearing them down roughly. She gave another strangled groan and reached for him, placing her hands over the back of his shoulders, pushing up with her toes to meet him. Cal reached for her knee, grabbed a hand full of the back of her thigh and pulled up, catching her weight against his chest as he unsettled her. It took a bit of jostling but he got her with her legs around his waist, his side and chest pressing her back flat against the wall, an arm bracing in the small of her back to help hold her weight; they weren't as young as they used to be.

Gillian had a hand between then, stroking and teasing him while he moved them. His other hand was tied up in gripping her leg so for a second she was all in control; Cal was glad she didn't immediately take that opportunity to shove him off her. If this was pushing buttons for her it was all the right ones. Thank god, because Cal wasn't sure if he could stand it if they stopped right now. It was rare for them to tear at clothes these days, it was rare to do it against the wall, it was rare for there to be such desperate passion.

Gillian suddenly gripped him hard and directed him to place, pushing up with her hips to meet him and he slid inside her. Cal stepped forward again and the back of her pelvis smacked against the dry wall. Her fingers dug into the back of his shoulders and she gave a strangled breath, throwing her head back as well. Cal had to take a second to gather himself, let alone making sure his wife was ok. He pulled back and thrust again, adjusted his stance to get the best angle, the best force; keep his balance.

"Cal," Gillian moaned. "Harder."

He complied, letting rip his own desperate groan, the tension unbearable. He shifted his hands on her to get a better grip, needing more leverage, more friction, more of her, more... more... He closed his eyes, pictured her again in that tiny skirt, a push up bra, breasts in his face. He panted against her shoulder, the curve of her neck, feeling her tightening everything around him, holding on, coaxing him; hot and slick.

"Oh god Gillian," he groaned again, desperately, slamming into her again and again, the tempo of his heart setting the rhythm. He could hear a constant whimpering and moaning and panting, right in his ear. "Gill," he murmured again. "Fuck!"

**PJ**

That was Cal's little cue that he was getting close, when he started muttering her name and cursing in short syllables. Gillian gripped a handful of his hair at the back of his head and pulled his head to kiss her hard. Their teeth and chins bumped against each other as his hips thrust and after a particularly painful clash she started laughing. That was so not going to work. Cal chuckled and she laughed again, delighted.

"Go," she urged. "I'll go with you," she whispered. He gave a grunt but didn't stop and let go. He pushed a little bit harder, letting it linger just a little bit longer. He was so close, so close and she just knew as soon as he started it would set her off. She was practically on fire, the throbbing was almost painful. She pushed her hips against him when he slammed against her and she felt him stumble for a second. She squeezed her muscles down, feeling him twitching, knowing he was barely holding it together; his breath strangled in his throat and then he cried out her name into her shoulder, his teeth grazing through the material of her shirt and she felt the quivering explosion of him. She fell a second later, the ripples of delight shocking her unexpectedly.

Then she literally fell... in a controlled way, to the floor, as Cal collapsed against her, dragging her down to the carpet. They landed in a heap crushing and cushioning each other, pressing against the wall. Cal gave a last little grunt and moved away from her and she was left staring up at the ceiling enjoying the kaleidoscopic patterns her pleasure was causing behind her eyes. It took a long time to eventually end and she shivered with each new reverberation. Cal uttered one of his amusing tame curses he used in front of their kids instead of saying the real thing and she giggled on reflex. If there was ever a time to really let rip with a real swear it would be now. Then Cal was back, pulling his jeans up a little higher to cover himself again. Gillian reached up to tug him by the neck, down against her so she could hug him. She pressed a kiss against his temple, her legs like jelly, her arms barely holding it together. Cal moved closer, so he was lying against her side and put an arm around her waist. She didn't know what to say...

**PJ**

Cal made a starfish in the middle of his bedroom floor. "Merlin's beard," he cursed and Gillian gave a small laugh. He caught his breath and turned, wanting to be closer to her, pulling his underwear back into place and leaning in for a hug. He pulled her close as best he could, knowing she wasn't able to move much herself. He liked it that way the best, when she was a complete mess and it was all his fault. He grinned against her shoulder and turned his head to face the red patch he'd left on her skin. He was so getting it for that tomorrow. Tomorrow though. Right now he was hoping for a lot of brownie points. He kissed her softly, along her throat, then pushed himself up on his arms, which were still a little wobbly as well, and traced kisses along her jaw to her mouth. He kissed her deeply but nice and slowly and softly.

She sighed when he broke away again and the grip of her arms around his neck loosened a little. Her eyes seemed to come back to focus and she looked up at him with a lazy smile. He gave a slight grin, waited, but she didn't say anything first. "That was utterly fantastic," Cal told her.

Her smile got wider. "Uh huh."

"Killed my back though," Cal gave a wince, the low ache starting to rear its head. That was probably his payback for aggravating her skin.

Gillian laughed. "Aw," she pouted and then she let him go and propped herself up on her elbows. She surveyed him again and he could feel the heat of her body against his. "You're going to keep that outfit right?"

Cal turned to her surprised. "That wasn't enough for you?"

"Fantasy and favourite position. You do spoil me."

"But it wasn't enough?" Cal queried innocently, leaning in to nibble against her jaw.

Gillian gave a light hum of approval. "Completely satisfied Cal," she murmured. "I just want it again. Later."

"Ugh," Cal gave a light groan. "Next week? When I recova?"

Gillian laughed, lightly, beautiful. "Sure. Or, you know, you could surprise me." She gave a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"I'll keep that in mind," Cal growled lowly. He felt his wife shiver and smiled, pleased. He lifted his gaze to hers and saw the amusement there too.

"Can I make a request?"

"Absolutely," Cal agreed readily.

"Wear that for Halloween."

Cal gave her an unimpressed expression. "All right but what will you wear for me?"

"Hm," Gillian mused. "Whatever you want me to."

Cal gave her a lascivious grin and watched her muscles twitch again. He might be done but he was starting to suspect she wasn't. He leaned in closer to her ear and she went still to listen attentively. "Have to be naughty secretary," he whispered. Her giggle was musical and she gave him a little shove. He moved back.

"Deal," she agreed. "Now bed ok?"

"Ok," Cal agreed and got to his knees, his muscles already starting to feel stiff and sore. His knee popped when he put pressure on it. "Ugh I'm gettin' old," he complained as he stood and started stripping off. Gillian watched him from the floor. "You all right?" He asked lightly, dumping everything in a heap.

Gillian took a deep breath and smiled again. "Yep," she agreed easily. She got to her feet too, stripping off her pyjamas and tossing them on the same pile as Cal's. He was tempted to just leave everything there but heaped the materials up in his arms and took them to the bathroom, dumping them in the hamper instead. When he came back Gillian was under the covers and he slid in next to her.

Cal put out his bed side lamp, then leaned over to extinguish hers too. Gillian waited patiently for him and when he lay down she snuggled in closer against his chest. Cal felt his skin zing alive with the feel of hers against his. Her leg came over his and she pushed a little with her hips. He was seriously done, but Gillian... wasn't...

"Confession," he started, keeping his voice soft.

"Ok," Gillian agreed, her hand on his chest, making small strokes, her breath against his neck.

"Just now, when we were..."

"Yes?" Gillian asked and she sounded a little wary.

"I was picturin' you," Cal murmured. "In that black skirt I really like." He felt Gillian move that leg a little higher up his thigh. "And the white shirt that I can see your bra through." She gave a 'hmm'. "And those heels, the black ones... you know those ones you got last year for the mayor's charity ball?"

She quivered against him and her hand shifted to his wrist. "Yes? What else?"

"I imagined you walked by, on the street, lookin' like that," Cal went on and why hadn't he done this to start with? He should really have planned it out better. He could have worked her up to begging for it, then screwed her against the wall. "And maybe I'd whistle at you."

"I'd ignore you," Gillian murmured almost immediately.

Cal chuckled. "Really? All rugged and unshaved and dirty, with my tool belt hung low?"

He felt Gillian give a pant and knew she was picturing it. And knew she was loving it.

"Smelling like earth," she added.

"Sizin' you up?" Cal went on. "Devourin' you with my eyes? Lettin' you know just how badly I'd want to _fuck you_. Right then. "

Gillian gave a little 'oh' and her grip tightened on him for a second, her hips pressing in tighter. "Where?" She practically gulped and he loved so much that she was playing along with him. "Where will we go? There's nowhere to go."

She was _so_ playing along!

Cal thought about the manager's desk, but that was his fantasy. This was hers. Dirty pickup truck might do it, but it was broad day light and she would not go for that. "There's a place around the back, a finished section."

"Oh," Gillian whispered again. She shifted that leg up further, so it was over his thigh and he could feel her hot, against him. He wanted to touch her and so he did and she was fiery and sticky and he swore to Merlin, if he was younger, he would be flipping her over right now to do her again.

So unfair.

"Against the wall," Cal went on, his breath a little more pronounced too, sliding his fingers against her and she whimpered delicately, suddenly deciding that now might be a good time to be quiet? "Have to be quick though. In case we get caught." It must be a miracle a small someone didn't knock on their door to ask what was going on. Surely the boys hadn't fallen asleep that quickly? Gillian pushed her hips against him in a sudden thrust. "Are you picturin' it Gillian?"

"Yes," she gave a desperate groan, her fingers gripping around his wrist tightly, the tension in her body palpable.

"Are you picturin' me fuckin' your brains out?" He wanted to. He wanted to, to do it again, with her, god he wanted to.

"Yes!" She cried. "Cal, oh god," she groaned and hung on to him as he wound her up again.


	79. Chapter 79

Cal woke up and he was sixty. Sixty. The number made him feel old and yet if he was going to base it on how he actually felt... he'd probably say he was closer to fifty. Gillian liked it when he said that because that meant she was still in her mid forties, not her mid fifties. He looked like he was still around the age of fifty and he didn't even have to colour his hair or cheat. Although his beard was practically white now so he hardly ever let it grow out. He was still in relatively good shape. That was probably because he was running after young children. Cal had a twelve year old and a seven year old and a one year old grandson. Gillian told him he was as young as he felt. And he felt pretty good.

"Good morning," Gillian stirred and shifted closer to him. He felt her hand beneath the covers, sliding over his chest, then the edge of her thigh against his hip. Her head came to sleepily rest against his cheek.

"Mornin'," Cal murmured.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you luv."

Gillian gave him a squeeze. The house was quiet and Cal wondered what time it was. He didn't want to open his eyes and ruin it. When it was warm in bed like this, cuddle up with his wife, he wanted to believe he could stay that way forever. He wanted to pretend it was the weekend and he could take as long as he liked to get out of bed. Then there was a thudding and voices of their son's heading downstairs; the high pitched of seven year old Owen and the starting to get deeper of twelve year old Lewis.

"Design flaw this house," Cal murmured.

"Hm?"

"The masta bedroom should be at the otha end of the hall, so we don't hear them escapin' in the mornin's."

Gillian gave a short laugh.

"Not too late to move," Cal muttered.

"Was that serious?"

"Lew's gonna be a teenage-a soon," Cal countered.

There was a pause and Cal could feel Gillian's fingers against his pectoral muscle, absently scratching. She was probably trying to figure out what he meant by that. In the end she just asked. "So?"

"There's five years between them," Cal pointed out.

"Wait what?" She pulled back and Cal pried his eyes open reluctantly. She looked confused, giving him a frown, but also incredibly cute, cheeks red and her hair mussed up, the cover to her shoulder even though she was propped up on an elbow now.

Cal reached up to brush the strands back from her face. "You don't think about that? When Lew's fifteen Owen's gonna be ten."

"And that means?" Gillian invited him to clarify, bringing a hand up to pick the sleep from her eyes.

"Well..." Cal wasn't sure what he meant. Usually she just got it. He didn't have to explain. "I mean, when you're a teenage-a you kind of want your own space. Don't want your little brutha in your space. Specially when he's so little." Cal should know. His big brother periodically banned him from their room. And there was only two and a half years between them.

"Oh I see." Gillian watched him for a moment. "To that I say, at least with Owen there Lewis can't fool around with his girlfriend."

"Lewis has a girlfriend?"

"Not that I know of," Gillian shifted to lie against his shoulder again. "He's twelve."

Cal snickered. Like that age had held him back from anything. Gillian gave his chest a light slap. "Not everyone is _you,_ Mr Early Developer."

Cal chuckled this time.

"Do you think he does have a girlfriend?" Gillian mused.

"I don't know. But I don't think Lewis is, uh, entirely mature in that department."

"Thank god."

"Yet."

Gillian gave a whimper.

"Or you know, boyfriend," Cal mused.

"Yes," Gillian agreed. Maybe. Only Lewis would know.

"Owen will be the heart breaka," Cal went on.

"Oh yeah," Gillian agreed heavily. "Not looking forward to that."

They lay together for a moment. Cal shifted his hand to her arm, tracing a pattern against her skin with the tip of his finger. "Do we have to get up today?"

"Eventually yes," Gillian sounded apologetic.

"But it's my birthday," Cal whined.

Gillian gave a soft laugh. Her hand slid down suddenly to the waist band of his boxers. "Could give you your present now."

Cal laughed and grabbed for her hand, pulling it back to where it was before, but closer against his heart this time. "Late-a. I wanna run somethin' by you. See what you think."

"Ok but if it's dirty you know the rules."

Cal chuckled. "No. Not that. Would you get your mind out the gutta? Geeze."

"Hurry up then."

"That's what she said," Cal laughed. Gillian jabbed a finger into his rib and he jumped away from her, turning his hips. "Ow. Son of a bitch!" It continued to ache and he squirmed.

Gillian laughed and when he complained again she pinched at his other side lightly to make him shift from that direction back towards her again. "Tell me!"

"I was thinkin' of maybe... partly retirin'."

"Geeze Cal, you're sixty not..."

"Not cos of that," Cal interrupted. "Well maybe a little part of that but... I'm bored."

Gillian sat up again and looked alarmed for a second.

"No, wait, that came out wrong," he quickly went on, wrapping an arm around her back and turning towards her so he was practically embracing her. "I just mean. You get to go out and do otha things and I've been doin' the same thing for twenty-three years."

Gillian watched him passively, waiting.

"I just thought about maybe doin' somethin' else."

"What something else?" She asked carefully. "What will happen to the Group?"

"Well Eli and Ria do just fine lookin' afta the Group."

"But they don't do all of it."

"Perhaps we should appoint a CEO?"

"So you're talking about quitting the Group altogether?" Her eyes were concerned and her voice had a strange tone, or apprehension, or... Cal didn't really know. He just knew she was worrying.

"I don't know?" Cal gave a slight wince. "I've not thought it through entirely. Just wanted to talk to you."

Gillian blinked at him, her head on the edge of his pillow, close and she was soft and warm and he loved that after fourteen years of marriage, this was still his favourite way to be with her. He was expecting the alarm any second. If the boys were up it had to be close to wake up time.

"So what were you thinking?" Gillian asked softly.

"Don't laugh," Cal started and she looked a little surprised, mostly interested. "But I was thinkin' about maybe teachin'."

Gillian did laugh, rolling on to her back while she giggled. Cal grinned despite himself and leaned over to press a kiss against the edge of her jaw. Her hand went to the hair at the back of his head. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "But all those years..."

"I know," Cal responded amicably. "It _is_ funny right? I was thinkin' bout lots of otha things I could do, consult for the FBI or local police and seminars and all that but the truth is, I do that kind of thing anyway. I don't really wanna go live in anotha country and study yet anotha culture." Gillian looked up at him, blue eyes serious and attentive. "Or spend years reserachin' and conductin' experiments and... even if we franchised one of us would more than likely have to go to anotha city to at least launch it. Or we all go."

"And move the boys from their school and friends?" Gillian finished his thought with a frown that said she did not like that idea. At least initially.

"Exactly," Cal agreed.

"You want to wind it down."

"A bit yeah."

"So... teaching. Have you... applied for anything?"

"Thought I might put out some feela's."

"Talk to Eli and Ria first. Eli just got married. He and Faye might start a family; they might want their time for themselves."

Cal nodded. He understood. Although he had worked his ass off during his first family and mostly through his second. Gillian wouldn't allow him to be completely selfish though.

"We could job share," Gillian offered. "The days you're not there I can be there."

"That could work," Cal considered. "Not that we feel they need supavision ova there right?"

"Absolutely not," Gillian agreed. "But it is _our_ business. I wouldn't want to just walk away."

Cal nodded to that too. "Fair enough luv."

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "This could be good." She tugged on his head to pull him down for a kiss. Cal slid a hand to her slim waist, squeezing slightly. That went well. Really well. He loved that they were on the same age so often too. That made things a lot easier. Cal kissed her back warmly, feeling her smile slightly beneath his lips. She shifted against him so their bodies were more in line. Twenty three years. It was incredible really. There had been some seriously tough times in the beginning and then again after the recession... But they had made it through, more than made it through; that was probably because of Gillian's impeccable business sense.

The alarm started to sound and Cal quickly leaned over to turn it off. Then he went back to kissing his wife, pressing closer against her so he could feel her body. She gave a little delighted hum. Then there was a knock at their door. "Are you awake?" Owen called loudly. Cal heard the door open and pushed away from his wife to look over his shoulder. The boys entered, Lewis first, a plate in his hand and coffee cup in the other. He was dressed and watching the liquid and food carefully as he headed across the room. Owen was right behind him, another cup in his other hand and a box, wrapped in toy trucks.

"Good morning," Lewis greeted, looking up to meet their eyes, to make sure they were listening to him because he wasn't signing. He headed around to Cal's side of the bed. Cal turned over and sat up.

"Happy birthday Dad!" Owen headed for Gillian and she did the same; she sat up to meet him.

"Yeah happy birthday," Lewis echoed. They boys handed over their presents triumphantly; no coffee spilt, then climbed onto the bed together, jostling and kneeling on their parent's legs.

"Wow thank you," Cal said of his marmite on toast and coffee while Gillian murmured her thanks as well.

"Open your present we got you," Owen instructed.

Cal put the coffee on his bedside table, then handed his breakfast to his wife and took the box Owen had dumped in his lap. "I love the wrappin' pape-a," he noted, finding an edge and tearing it back to reveal a new phone. "That's amazin'. How'd you know I needed a new phone?"

Owen grinned pleased and leaned forward to take the present back, pulling away the rest of the wrapping paper. Lewis got closer to him and they fought over taking the device out of the box, telling each other about the features and games, as if they didn't already know and play with a model in the store.

"Thank you," Cal leaned towards his wife and gave her a kiss.

She picked up a piece of his toast and put it in his mouth, then got one for herself. "My present will have to wait for the shower."

Cal grinned and gave a slight laugh. He reached for his coffee while Lewis, who now had control of his father's new phone, powered it up. "You've trained them well," Cal noted, sipping his drink. Perfectly made. The toast wasn't even burnt.

"Hm," Gillian noted. "I have a gap at one. We could have lunch together."

"If by lunch togetha, you mean a shag, then absolutely," Cal responded softly.

"Cal," Gillian complained. But the boys weren't listening.


	80. Chapter 80

"Oi Owen," Cal called across the room. "Would you cut it out? Sit down!" Owen dropped out of sight behind the back of the couch but Cal could still hear him giggling. "Lewis, be a big brutha!" Cal instructed from the dining room table where he had his laptop set up to write. He could have just gone upstairs but Gillian had asked him to keep an eye on the boys because she needed to work in the other room, where she had claimed space as her office. Of course, Cal could have just gone in there to sit with her but she knew their youngest, he made trouble when he was bored, which was why she specifically asked Cal to keep an eye on him.

It was pouring outside, absolutely pouring, which it had done all weekend. Even Cal was feeling like he might have cabin fever. Owen was expelling his pent up energy by jumping on the couch cushions and Lewis was playing on the carpet behind the couch, where they had a basket of toys and a bookshelf of their books, but he was also smirking, either enjoying his young brother being silly or enjoying that he was getting into trouble.

It went quiet again, so Cal could hear the gushing of rain on the roof and in the gutters of the house. It felt a bit like they were drowning. Lewis stood up and talked to Owen over the back of the couch. Cal didn't quite catch whatever was said and couldn't see his hands either to read the signs. He turned back to his work to try and figure out where he was up to. Several years ago, after his accident, he had found about twenty five pages of a new book. And they were good. And now finally, he thought it might be a good time to actually finish it. His publisher wasn't harassing him, apparently he'd not accepted an advance, but had gone about writing it of his own volition. His publisher hadn't actually known anything about it, but now they did, they were interested.

Out of the corner of his eye Cal saw Lewis crouch down to his elaborate castle and defensive wall system. Owen had been banished for being too much of a hindrance. Cal had tried to encourage Lewis to let the younger boy play until there were frustrated tears and hitting. Lewis had gone into time out. Owen had been removed from the game. Cal was kind of hoping Lewis would do something else with Owen, keep the four year old entertained, but nope. He was set on his game and Owen was set on doing something stupid. Cal could tell. He had that mischievous look in his eye. Just so long as he didn't jump on the couch and break it, or worse, fall off and break himself.

Owen started giggling again and his head peeked up above the edge of the couch. Cal glanced over. "I can see you!" He called and Owen laughed again, disappearing. Cal chuckled to himself. The kid had some serious spunk. He was a little dude. At day care he was incredibly popular but he was also frequently the one to break something, or suggest they climb trees. It was seriously going to be just a matter of time before someone got hurt. Cal hoped it was someone else's kid. That was mean. He hoped Owen learned his lesson before someone _did_ get hurt. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way. Some lessons could be better off learnt in a mild way.

Cal was absorbed in his book before he realised Lewis was yelling at his brother. He turned to find nine year old Lewis standing amongst his game and Owen was jumping on the couch again. He got up and approached. "Oi! You jump on that couch one more time Owen and it's time out!" Cal hollered. Owen shrunk back a bit and lost his smile but he didn't seem particularly bothered.

"I told him to stop," Lewis offered.

"I know Lew. Thank you," Cal praised.

"Dad can you play with us?" Lewis asked, walking with his father back to the table where he was working.

"I'm just workin' on somethin'," Cal told him. "Can you give me ten minutes?" Because apparently he was going to have to actively engaged both the boys in something to toil away the last hours of Sunday. Especially with Trouble over there clearly unable to entertain himself. Especially because Cal had told Gillian he would. Ten minutes should be enough time to at least finish his thoughts and save the document. He might trade in a few hours later in the evening himself.

Cal was just about to sit again when there was a loud bang and the sound of a lot of items falling. He turned, surprised, to find Lewis standing in the middle of the room, shoulders hunched up with a fright and the tall book case, that was at the end of the couch, knocked to the side, so it rested against the smaller book case, that held all the boys' books. The taller bookcase was meant to be for older books and a few trinkets and photos. To Cal's horror, he could see one of the very few pictures he had of his mother had crashed to the ground, obviously catching the edge of the other book shelf on its way. It was face down now on the carpet, glass around it.

"Owen," Lewis breathed.

"What happened?" Cal approached, knowing what had happened, but at least giving his son a chance to explain before he lost it. It was so he didn't lose it.

"It was accident," Owen told him, blue eyes wide, horrified.

No, Cal was freaking horrified. "I told you," he started, the anger boiling up, barely under control, but still, under control. "I asked you several times to not jump on the couch." His voice got louder but he restrained from yelling. Only just. "This is why I asked you not to. What if you'd fallen and cracked your head open on the table?" He gestured angrily and Owen shrank back further; harsh 'hurt' and 'fall' signs. "Time out," Cal snapped. "Right now. Five minutes."

"Four," Owen mumbled.

"Five. One for every year of your age and an extra one because you broke somethin' that was precious to me," Cal shot back quickly, feeling his legs start to tremble. It wasn't even the picture. It was the rain and the picture and frustration.

Lewis had stooped to pick up the photo gingerly, as if he might break it some more. Cal could see the glass in the frame had shattered and the picture was bent forward, concave; it could be scratched, damaged.

Cal turned on Owen as he walked around the couch. Time out was just as beneficial for the kid as it was for the parent. At least, that's how Cal saw it right now because if he had to deal with his four year old he was pretty sure he might throttle him. A five minute time out would give Owen time to think about what he'd done and maybe how to make it right, and it gave Cal a chance to calm the hell down again.

"What happened?" Gillian asked at the kitchen door way, her hands reaching out for Owen, who scuffed along with his head down.

Cal turned to see her. "He's on time out," he shot like it was an accusation and she withdrew her comfort like Owen had the plague. Gillian approached and Cal got closer to Lewis, trying to be careful because he was in socks. He took the photo and studied it. The image didn't seem to be damaged but the frame was shattered.

"That's Nana," Lewis told his mother.

"Oh," Gillian noted quietly. She surveyed the toppled bookcase and the glass. She gave Cal's arm a squeeze as she went to get some newspaper. Lewis helped her pick up the pieces of glass and told her what he'd seen and Cal fumed for a while, then put the picture on the breakfast bar to get a new frame later. He righted the book case and straightened up the books. Lewis put the other items that had fallen back, standing on the couch to reach properly. They worked in silence. "Cal," Gillian noted softly.

"What?" He growled.

She gave him an unimpressed expression, her warning for him to not take it out on her. "It's time," she told him softly. Cal gave a sigh and went to walk around her, to go and find Owen who should be sitting about half way down the hall downstairs, facing the wall. Gillian grabbed his wrist as he went by and he looked up at her. "Be gentle."

"I will," he insisted but she was right. She could probably read the anger in him. The room was incredibly quiet when he left. Owen was in the hall, in the exact spot for 'time out'. He was facing the wall, his legs crossed in front of him, his elbows resting on his thighs, his chin cupped glumly within his hands. He heard Cal approach and looked up. "Hey," Cal greeted.

"Time's up?"

"Time's up buddy," Cal sat himself next to his son, who shifted to his knees. He was still such a skinny wee thing. Just like his big brother was. Still.

"I'm sorry Dad," Owen told him.

"When I tell you to do somethin' Owen, I expect you to do it," Cal told him gently.

"It was accident," he repeated, his face sorrowful now.

"I know it was darlin' but you know there's a reason why I tell you to do somethin'. Because it's eitha not safe for you or because it's not safe for someone else or I'm helpin' you learn to be a big person."

Owen nodded pitifully.

"That's my job Wen."

"I know," his voice waivered, on the verge of tears.

Cal wasn't even trying to lay it on thick. He reached out his arms and Owen fell into them instantly. "I'm sorry Dad."

Cal hugged him tightly, rubbed his back a little, then turned his head to plant a kiss against his son's ear. "I know you are. I accept your apology. I know it wasn't on purpose. But what did you learn?"

"No jump on the couch."

"Yeah," Cal agreed, his voice gentle again. "And what else?" He pulled Owen back a little to see his face.

"Um," Owen fingered the seam of Cal's shirt at his shoulder. "Do the things you ask me."

"Yeah," Cal agreed more firmly this time. "Thank you. Are you gonna do that from now on?" Owen nodded but he probably wouldn't. That was Owen. And that was a normal response for a four year old. But at least for a while, he might think twice about it.

"Is Nana all right?"

"She'll be just fine," Cal responded kindly.


	81. Chapter 81

Cal settled against his pillow and let out a sigh. Then a groan. He heard Gillian give a light laugh from her side of the darkness of their bedroom. "Long day huh?"

"God yeah," Cal agreed.

"Do you need a cuddle?"

"Yes please," Cal readily approved.

Gillian was already moving toward him, shifting the blanket out of the way and settling against his side, her face in the crook of his neck, her arm over his torso, her fingers brushing a few times against the soft hairs of his right arm. "Mmm you smell good," she breathed softly.

Cal smiled and shifted his hand to rest against her waist. She readjusted her hand to his chest, curling it against his heart. "I'm wide awake. Are you wide awake?"

"I guess. I just got into bed."

"Hm," Cal noted. "I'm tired but I'm awake."

"Maybe you need to relax," Gillian noted in a sultry tone.  
>"Why is everythin' sex with you?" Cal grumped. He jolted sharply as Gillian pinched his nipple between her index finger and thumb. "Ow!" Cal complained loudly. "That's spousal abuse that is."<p>

"Harden up," Gillian murmured, pressing a kiss against his neck.

Cal turned slightly to squash her beneath him and she protested herself, trying to fight him off. Cal used his body weight to pin her. "Not so funny when the shoe's on the otha foot is it?"

"I was offering to give you a 'happy ending'."

Cal laughed loudly over the top of her and smothered her with kisses. She giggled and gave up trying to fend him away, daring to slip her tongue against his lips, curling an arm around his neck. Cal gave a hungry grunt but pulled away. "No fair. I can't keep up with you anymore."

"I'm sorry," Gillian whispered on a pout.

Cal rested his chin on her sternum, lightly, not giving her his full weight because it would hurt. His eyes were starting to adjust and he could make out the general shape of her. "You know," he started conversationally. "Afta 'the change' you're supposed to get all miserable and lose your sex drive."

"I'm emulating Catherine the Great."

Cal chuckled. "Brilliant."

"There are little blue pills you know."

Cal straightened up a bit. "You want me to take blue pills?" He asked seriously. He had been thinking about it.

"No," Gillian scoffed, smoothing a hand through his hair. "It was merely good ammunition for more teasing."

Cal grumbled in his throat. "Not supposed to joke about a man's performance Gill."

She laughed lightly, combing his hair again. "So not joking about your performance."

"That one time was bad enough."

"Hey," Gillian cut him off sharply, her tone firm. "You know what I remember about that one time? I remember you told me you loved me, for the first time since you woke up, even though you couldn't remember a thing about our relationship. You told me _how_ you loved me and _why_ you loved me and then we made a _baby_, our son; a beautiful expression of love. And maybe that doesn't mean much to you but to me it was really special, a miracle, and I will always remember _that_ about the day Owen was conceived."

Cal was stunned still for a second. "Right."

Gillian brought her hand to his cheek, smoothed her fingers around his jaw. "Just saying," her voice softened.

Cal gave a little chuckle but his heart was beating in a funny rhythm and he felt warm. He didn't quite know what to say to that but maybe it did make him feel a bit better about that day. Even though he still would have preferred to make love to his wife to conceive their son... Especially after the relatively unromantic hell of making Lewis.

"I could... happy endin' you if you'd like."

Gillian's hand smoothed through his hair again. "That's ok, I'm good."

"Have a go this mornin' did you?"

Gillian hmphed at him and Cal chuckled. "Why not? You were in the showa alone."

"Cal," Gillian's voice held a warning. A warning he didn't understand.

"Why is it I can't tease you about satisifyin' your own needs?"

"You satisfy my needs."

"We've had this convasation before," Cal noted, shifting a little so his head was now resting on her shoulder and his body was curled up around hers. "And you always manage to change the subject or... distract me... But why is it, honest answa now, why don't you like masturbatin'?" He felt Gillian stiffen slightly against him and seriously? Just saying the word was enough to make her uncomfortable? Why? '_Tell me why_.'

"Hm?" Cal prompted. Gillian sighed. "You already told me about Mr College-Boyfriend so... what else could there be?" He stopped abruptly. God what if he was pushing it? They had only just talked about that guy, who was still nameless... Maybe she needed time to work it out in her head first, before she came to talk to him. He prepared himself to back off when she spoke again.

"It's kind of also to do with him," she finally answered.

"Oh," and Cal opened his mouth again to back off, to tell her they didn't have to talk about this, whatever it was, it could wait, he wasn't pushing.

"Sometimes..." She stopped abruptly, gave an uncomfortable little shift, then started again. "He used to tell me I was... not very good. In bed."

"I'd just like to state for the record that I want to kill this guy," Cal interrupted around a flood of anger. "Fuckin' kill him."

"It's noted," Gillian responded dryly.

"Carry on."

"Are you sure you're going to be able to cope with hearing the rest?"

Cal paused. That was actually a fair question. "Yes. Is this the end of it though? This is all of it?"

"Yes."

Cal suppressed a sigh. "Go on." He softened his voice. "I'm listenin'." To be fair, he had experiences he wasn't entirely proud of either, things he hadn't told Gillian, but maybe should. She was doing some big-time sharing with him right now.

"He would stand over me and..." She paused and it sounded like she was forcing herself to talk. "Masturbate and come in my face," Gillian's voice got so deadpan it circled back to emotional and Cal resisted the urge to react. This is how she told her stories. Bluntly. She shifted against him, uncomfortable again, but he didn't move, he kept the pressure of his body against her, to ground her, because he knew it would, even though he could feel the heat of anger prickling on his skin. He wanted to her to know that he was right there, on her side. There was a long silence and Cal couldn't tell if she was crying, though he was pretty sure she wasn't. He also couldn't tell if she had finished telling the story. "He would 'show' me how he wanted it done."

"Gillian," Cal murmured.

"I'm ok to talk about it," she seemed to know what he was about to say. "I've just never told anyone else. Not Alec. Not... Not anyone." She pushed against him, making him turn over further so she could lie mirror image to him. She put his arm over her waist and threaded hers through his to do the same. "I used to be ashamed," she added. "But now that it's out I realise... there _is_ nothing to be ashamed of. I didn't do anything wrong."

"You're not crap in bed Gill," Cal blurted.

She laughed and pressed a kiss against his mouth quickly. "Thank you."

"I mean that. I'm not just sayin' that."

"I know. We make magic Cal. I know," she added simply. "It was a really long time ago. It doesn't mean anything anymore. I got off to a rough start with sex, excuse the pun." Cal chuckled a little, mostly nervous tension. "Between my mother and a letdown first time and then _that guy_."

"Please tell me you had otha boyfriends in college who were good to you?"

"Of course. And then there was Alec."

"Ugh."

Gillian laughed this time. "Yes I know." Meaning, she knew how he felt about her ex-husband and he didn't have to mention the bad qualities because she knew all about them and agreed.

"But you always seem so..." Cal stopped to search for the right word and Gillian waited for him too. "Um. Willing?"

She laughed again, petted her hand against his back. "I worked through _a lot_ of things before I met you. Some of them with Alec. He wasn't all bad," she quickly added before he could protest again. Although to be fair, she hadn't sat her first husband down for a heart to heart, she had just quietly got on with it. And it had been easy with Alec because despite what Cal wanted to think about him, he was patient and gentle and, more importantly in this case, _tame_. "I worked out even more after _we_ got married... I guess masturbating is just one thing that still... weird's me out a little." Which was really so very strange now that she actually thought about it, because, what was she going to tell her children? The same load her mother had?

"Because?" Cal prompted.

"Because my mother implied it wasn't the right thing to do and she never made it ok. It's different for girls."

"I've heard," Cal noted neutrally. "She said it was all right for boys but not girls?"

"No it was more like, boys really can't help themselves but girls can so... you should control yourself."

"Right, so Matthew just went for it because it was easy but you never got the chance to actually explore yourself?"

"Yes," Gillian admitted. She would never in a million years have had this conversation with Alec, not even if it was in the context of what they would tell their children. Actually, if Gillian looked at her life with Alec, supposing it had all worked out like she had planned, she suspected she would have been raising Sophie almost single-handedly while he worked.

"We are gonna tell our boys that it's all right aren't we?"

"Yes of course," Gillian quickly agreed.

"They should," Cal went on. "You know, so that they know things about themselves. How else can they tell someone else if they don't know?"

"How very enlightened of you," Gillian noted impressed.

"Yeah well on occasion I read the stuff you put on my night stand."

Gillian gave a slight laugh. She remembered that article too. And she had that warm proud feeling of knowing how Cal tried for her and their kids and how he was her husband and good lord did she love him. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his mouth and he gave a surprised but pleased little hum. "Then there is also the fact that we do it all the time so I don't ever feel the need to touch myself."

Cal chuckled. "That is flatterin'."

"It was meant to be."

"But we're not doin' it all the time anymore. Your sex drive has sped up, not slowed down. Don't think I haven't noticed. You don't feel the urge durin' my absolute refractory period?"

Gillian laughed at his facetious tone. "Well... sometimes if I do, we fool around anyway."

Cal was quiet and she could _hear_ him grinning in the darkness. "So you get me to scratch your itch anyway?"

Gillian laughed. "Yes," she admitted.

"Naughty."

Gillian pressed her forehead against his shoulder in shame and Cal laughed again. "Not that it's such a chore," he added. Gillian turned her head to kiss his neck. He was warm. He gave a slight sigh that made her want to kiss him harder. "And me doin' it offends you?"

Gillian had to take a second to realise what he was talking about; back to the subject of self pleasure then. "Not offends me but my logic makes me feel that maybe I don't satisfy you."

"You do!" Cal cut in quickly. "You _do_. I've told you that before."

"I know."

"It's just, I don't know what. Somethin' I've always done. I _like_ it."

Gillian laughed a little. And she murmured that that was okay while petting the hair at the base of his skull again.

"Gill. I'm glad you told me about _that guy_."

She hmmed.

"No I mean it. Cos... you should be able to tell me those things. We're friends aren't we?"

"Of course," she cut in quickly.

"I know you and Casey used to talk about a lot of stuff to do with your Dad and all. But you don't always talk to me about the stuff that's botherin' you."

"That's not true."

"The really deep stuff," Cal noted.

"We don't have to share everything do we?"

"No, that's not what I'm sayin'. I'm sayin'... everyone needs someone to talk to and I'd like you to be able to talk to me about somethin' if you needed to."

Maybe that wasn't quite it either. He didn't know what he wanted to say. But he wanted their table of conversation to be absolutely open to everything. He was a better listener now, he felt he had earned his chance at being her confidant. And there were clearly still things locked away in her psyche that either of them knew about.

"Is this because I didn't talk to you about Dad?"

"Not entirely," Cal tried. "But yeah that does cross my mind."

"Hmm," Gillian agreed.

"Cos you know, sometimes you think everythin' is out in the open only to find, it's not. Or somethin' you thought you'd dealt with ages ago, it's still there. It's like a shrapnel wound. You might get most of it out in one go but even twenty years late-a you get a pain and it turns out a small sliva is still in there, workin' away... you have to take it out... maybe it brings up memories again..."

Gillian gave a short light laugh. She pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, her hand tightening against his flesh and he fell silent. Sometimes he really surprised her in such a delightful way. "Sometimes you're so very good with the analogies. And you're right. I did think I had dealt with everything. I thought that when Dad moved back here to live with Mom. And again when I found out he was drinking. I know it's not an excuse at all but it just stunned me so much. That he would go back to that after everything. It's like he completely forgot how our lives were. And it's like Mom forgot too. I..." She hesitated. "I didn't want to help her, when she told me. She went back to him. She should have dealt with it. Or he should have. He's a grown man. He has to take responsibility. You know?"

"Sure," Cal agreed. "I feel that way about my mutha."

He felt the slight shift of Gillian's head nodding against the pillow. "But as for the boys. I thought Mom being there as an intermediary was enough but in hindsight... even when I was their age I knew there was something wrong. Dad always smelt like drink and..." Gillian sighed. "I guess this is my thing."

"That's ok. I have abandonment issues."

Gillian kissed him again.

"Help me with mine? I'll help you with yours."

"You're already doing so well with yours Cal. I, however, think I might have missed my opportunity with mine," she added glumly.

"There'll be somethin' else," Cal supplied. "It'll come up again, in a different form, and you'll get your chance to confront it." He paused. "Gotta get out all that shrapnel."


	82. Chapter 82

Cal slouched all over the table in their communal work/reception area. He was practically horizontal, leaning his head on his elbow like that, boredly watching the interview footage the lawyer, Mr Gibson, had brought him to view. His eyes were hooded so low it looked as though he was asleep. Gillian was sitting up straight, paying attention, pen poised in hand to take notes, ever the good impression, ever the good girl. She watched Cal, willing him to sit up just a little bit and show interest. Was he missing the subtle shifts of Mr Gibson at the end of the table that suggested he was uncomfortable or unimpressed? They needed this account. Really needed it. Their entire future as business partners hinged on it. Why didn't he show more interest? Did he not care anymore? Couldn't he do it for her? And why was Gillian even thinking that way. This was his baby after all and she was merely... she didn't really know what she was doing. Alec was on her case all the time about the money they had invested that so far had not even a glimpse of a return. Alec was on her case about a lot of things at the moment. He just needed time to adjust and Gillian just needed time to prove to him that she could make it work; even make it worth their while. She just needed a bit of time and...

They didn't have any clients.

Cal suddenly jabbed a finger down on the remote in front of him, like he had done that a million times before and knew the exact location of the pause button even though it seemed he wasn't looking. The screen stilled, a squiggly line of static cutting across the top third; the video froze on the twenty inch box. "See here," he gestured vaguely towards the images with an open hand. "The intaviewa is leadin' your client. When he asks the question you can see his eyebrows go up and his lips turn." He pointed to the screen in certain places, knowing what he meant, figuring the lawyer probably wouldn't be able to tell. The video wasn't exactly the best format for demonstration. But that was what they could afford right now. Video was free when it came from Cal's den. Cal had stopped the footage as the 'smile' was fading. He'd print still pictures later, for the lawyer and anyone else who wanted proof.

Gillian was thinking she should get a pointer for Cal. Maybe a laser one. He'd like that. And a better video player; actual DVD, with a better screen; higher resolution. Sigh, if they had any money at all she had a massive list of things she would get for the new business. But, perhaps, better viewing equipment should be a priority. That would almost directly lead to more clients so therefore worth the cost. Furniture on the other hand, could wait a little bit longer. Two comfortable chairs were enough to sit on. They didn't need a couch straight away. Even though it would fill up the obviously empty space over there that they used as a 'waiting' area. Not that anyone ever waited because, they didn't have any clients. And one of them was always there to deal with whoever came in straight away.

"And that means?" Mr Gibson asked, unsure, his pen also poised to jot something down.

"He's encouragin' the ansa he wants to hear," Cal told him patiently. Gillian would be so proud. He didn't look to check though. "And your client is pickin' up on these subtle signals. Because he has a diminished mental age, he wants to please the cop so he gives the ansa he knows the cop wants to hear. Classic example of experimenta bias."

"What he means is," Gillian cut in. "The detective who interviewed your client lead him through the confession."

"So my client is innocent?"

"No," Cal jumped in again. "Not sayin' that. Just sayin' you can tear apart this footage in court."

Mr Gibson gave a pleased smile he tried to cover up and Cal turned his head to Gillian, who gave Cal a small one of her own. She had seen it too. "I gotta go," Cal got up suddenly. "I'll get the minion's on to this." They didn't have any minions but Gillian could sort out the details, get contracts signed, get the money. He wasn't interested in those kinds of things. Well he was, he wanted to make money so he could keep doing this, and other things but still... paperwork bored him. That's what Gillian was for. She liked to keep order. And Cal would go over the footage and prepare all of that side of things. Which was still boring, but also necessary at this point. Cal stood and Mr Gibson did the same. They shook hands enthusiastically and Cal headed to his office and closed the door. Within fifteen minutes Gillian was knocking. She opened the door and pressed her cheek against it as she stuck her head in the gap. She was smiling, making her eyes twinkle. "Went all right then?" Cal noted, spinning his chair to face her.

She nodded. "Very all right. Thank you."

"Should be thankin' yourself. You found him."

"And you played nicely," Gillian straightened up a little, sounding proud. Her long hair was pulled back from her face, making her look elfin. Cal swung his chair lightly and didn't respond. Just stared. "So you'll make a report?" Gillian went back to business. "I said we'd get it to him by the end of the week."

"Fine," Cal agreed. Like he had anything else to do.

"We should go out for a drink," Gillian blurted. Cal looked up at her neutrally, and then he noted she didn't come into his office. Was she waiting for an invitation? "To celebrate," she added, as if the suggestion needed it.

"Our first client?" Cal went further, wondering if there was something he was missing. Why did they need an excuse to go for a drink?

"Yes," Gillian tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her wedding ring was still shiny new. Cal looked away and Gillian took his sudden shift of focus to mean he wasn't interested. "And that you did really well today." And why did she feel the need to suck up to him? To stroke his ego. Cal gave her a slight grin of amusement. "Keep it up and we might get another client," Gillian surmised, getting a hold of herself again. "Then I might take you out for _dinner_."

Cal gave a smug grin. "If you find them luv, I'll charm them with the truth."

Gillian smiled in return. "If you're _really_ good, I might even get you a minion."


	83. Chapter 83

"Thank you for doing this," David noted.

"Not a problem," Cal responded as he concentrated on the intersection. Once they were on the Beltway he wouldn't have to focus as much on what he was doing. Besides, he hadn't really done it to earn points. Ok yes he had, but not because he was trying to impress Gillian's father by giving him a ride to the airport. He just wanted her father to see that Cal was actually a good guy and he was better than Alec. Mostly the point scoring was with Gillian, so she would see that Cal could play nicely. He could be pleasant and helpful. Good marriage material. The thought made his stomach quiver. He didn't quite remember what had put the idea into his head but now that it was there, now that it was _really there_, he knew he wanted it. He wanted to marry Gillian. He wanted her to marry him.

And he half thought that she might go for it if he asked, despite conversations to the contrary because... well she was that kind of woman; she was the marrying type. Cal figured she must think about it. Sometimes. When she looked at him and she seemed so content (which felt amazing) and happy with him and them. But he also knew that it meant a bit of work, having her say 'yes'. He needed to show her he wasn't entirely a profaner of the landscape, but someone she could actually merge her life with. He had to show her they could be a partnership in more than business (because even now their business relationship was up and down like a cork on the tide. Such was the nature of two strong minded people. But those arguments never came home with them. Even if he was a pig headed jerk-bag, to quote Gillian herself). He could do marriage. He could do it well. He just needed to show her, to convince her in subtle ways. Which meant doing things like this. Taking her father to the airport. She had only known him when his previous marriage had been falling apart, but she didn't see all those years he was actually a happy husband.

All three of them, Cal, Gillian and David had had lunch the other day so there was no small talk in the car about where Cal was from and what had brought him to the States. There was no small talk about what David did out in San Diego and when he planned on getting back to DC. There was no small talk about whether business was good. They didn't talk sports or politics or the economy. David made a comment about the weather, hoping it would be a smooth flight. Cal grunted is acquiescence. They fell back into silence. It wasn't entirely comfortable.

"I'm gonna ask Gillian to marry me," Cal blurted.

David was silent for a moment. "I thought you might."

Cal gave another grunt. He didn't like to be undercut.

"She talks about you like... Well," he stopped. "It's a cliché but I haven't seen her this happy."

David sighed and looked out the passenger window. Cal glanced over at him subtly but he couldn't see his face; he noted the other man didn't make a comparison to another time she was supremely happy... "She deserves the best."

"I agree," Cal responded almost immediately. And then it struck him what that meant. It meant he had to be better than he was right now. It meant... it meant he had to do more. And it meant David knew that and was warning him... off? To wait? It was a good point. Cal should wait.

**PJ**

Cal lay in the middle of the bed, waiting for Gillian in his bathroom. She came back to the bedroom, stopping to note with a little frown that he was right in the middle of the mattress, then turned to close the door and put out the light. It was silent as she stepped across the carpet, then Cal felt her on his right, pulling back the covers to get in next to him. "Did Dad get away ok?"

"How should I know?"

She gave a little sigh as her head reached the pillow. "Did he get to the airport ok then?" She rephrased, her tone was dry.

"Yep."

"Ok. Thank you."

There were other things to work out too. Like the fact that she had said she didn't want to get married again. That would be the biggest one.

"Are you ok there?" Gillian shifted against him, trying to get comfortable in the narrow corridor he had left her. In the middle, there was no way she wouldn't be close to him. She meant, was he quite happy in the middle of the bed, taking up all the room?

"Yeah," Cal answered. Gillian hmphed and finally settled on her back and was still, her arm resting against his.

It wasn't just that. There were other things too. They had been... in a rough patch the last few months. Or a weird space. And he didn't quite know how to get back from that. He made trouble, not fixed it. Gillian fixed things.

They lay that way for a moment and then Cal shifted to turn over, to put his arm around her and rest his head against hers. She turned into him slightly, a little contended sigh, placing her hand over the top of his arm. She was warm. She was always warm and comforting and something in Cal stirred. Not lust but that love, that feeling he only felt for her. He wanted her to fix him. But of course, it didn't work that way. So that meant he had to figure it out on his own. He just hoped he managed it before he ever lost her.

And then he was going to ask her to marry him.


	84. Chapter 84

Cal knocked on the boys' bedroom door. It wasn't closed completely, just pushed to, so he gave it a bit more of a nudge when no one objected to him going in, no one being his teenage son. Lewis was up on the top bunk, reading; pleasure, not school by the look of it. He looked over when his father came in. "Hey Dad," he greeted lightly, waving a hand.

"Hi Lew," Cal let the door mostly close behind him, crossed the room and stood at the foot of the ladder. "How was your day?"

"Good," Lewis gave him a thumbs up. "How was your day Dad?"

"Good thanks."

"Do I have to do the table now?" He used 'establish' and 'table'.

"Uh not yet," Cal gave a slight shake of his head. The way ten-year-old Owen peeled potatoes they would be eating in an hour. That was plenty of time for a father-son chat. "I was wonderin' if we could talk?" He twirled a finger by his mouth.

"Am I in trouble?" Lewis asked softly. He used 'bad'.

"No," Cal told him and then wondered if he should follow that up. Had Lewis done something he was expecting to get into trouble for? Did that require a few well placed questions? "At least not yet. Unless you'd like to come clean about somethin'?" He gave a slight smile to show he was teasing and Lewis gave an ambiguous shrug.

"All right," Cal agreed that neither of them were going to push that issue. "Can I come up?" He asked instead, pointing a finger to the ceiling. Whatever that was, Cal was going to let it go. That was the another tough part of being a parent, a lesson he had struggled to learn with Emily the first time around, sometimes, he wasn't going to know everything his children got up to. That was what Gillian was talking about earlier. That their boys would eventually pull away from them and they would know less. It was sad to think about. But also, Cal had another reason to be in his son's room in the first place, and that was to talk about girlfriend's.

"Sure," Lewis agreed, shifting his legs out of the way and sitting up while his father climbed.. He marked his book, closed it and put it on the little shelf beside his bed. Cal sat himself on the end of his son's bed, so his back was against the wall and his legs extended out so his ankles were hanging off the edge of the mattress.

"Mum was tellin' me she met Hollie today," Cal began. He gestured his index finger towards his chin for 'tell me'. He finger spelled Holly. Lewis gave another nonchalant nod, as if that were no big deal. He showed Cal that she spelled her name with an 'ie'. "She said she seems nice," Cal went on, looking for a reaction, brushing his hands against each other.

"Yeah I think she's pretty nice," Lewis responded with a nod, also singing 'nice'.

"She's your girlfriend?" He signed 'girl' then 'friend'.

"Yeah," Lewis nodded.

Right. He was so not helping Cal out with this. Cal wondered if that was because he didn't want to talk about it. Or whether he just didn't see what the big deal was. His face seemed to indicate he didn't see what the big deal was. "How long you been goin' out?" He drew his right index finger up the forearm of his left hand.

"Just a little while," Lewis gave another shrug, both shoulders, not a lie, while making a 'small' gesture. "We have class together and so we've been talking and stuff and then she asked me to have lunch with her." He used 'class', 'together', 'talking' and 'eat'.

That counted as going out?

"So," Lewis shrugged again. His hands settled in his lap. "Now she's my girlfriend." He used 'girl' and 'friend'.

"Right," Cal agreed. He looked around the boy's room. It was pretty messy. Toys and clothes and Owen had made a right abomination of his bed covers as per usual. He would probably whine until Cal or Gillian fixed it for him at bed time too.

"She's really cool Dad," Lewis went on, this time without being prompted. "She's funny and really pretty. Lots of guys like her." His face and hands were animated. Cal gave his son a smile, mostly because the way Lewis was talking about her was actually kind of sweet. He had a glow in his eye that reminded Cal of seeing Kent talk about Simon and Emily talk about Ajay and he wondered if he had looked like that talking about Gillian once upon a time. Or Zoe? He was still on the fence as to his extent of 'loving her'.

"Have you met her Mum and Dad?" Cal moved his hand from mouth to forehead.

"Not really," Lewis gave another shrug. He didn't seem to mind his father prying. "I seen them once cos they picked Hollie up from school."

"You saw them," Cal corrected. The sign for 'saw' and 'seen' were the same.

"Maybe one day you could meet her too," Lewis suddenly added enthusiastically, like he'd just had the bright idea. He extended his index fingers and pushing the fist parts of his hands together. "That would be cool. She's cool Dad. You'll like her." He pinched his middle finger and thumb together in front of his chest, his other fingers still extended and the back of his hand facing his father.

"I'd love to meet her," Cal responded with a smile. What was Gillian worrying about? Lewis was a good kid. He wasn't hiding having a girlfriend from anyone. He probably just hadn't quite got around to mentioning it yet. But it was obvious he liked this girl, really liked her, which was sweet in one way but also scary in another. Lewis was growing up. He _was_ fifteen. But Gillian didn't have to worry. They hadn't lost him. "And your Mum," Cal added.

"Yeah and Mum too. Maybe she could come round after school?" He used 'visit'.

"Sure," Cal agreed. "So long as someone's here." With Owen at practice and Gillian working a late nights sometimes, Lewis could be home alone. Which was a really nice segway. "Lew, see, the thing is... you're fifteen." He half closed and opened his hand, just moving the fingers like he was lightly gripping something and then letting it go again.

"I know," he responded bluntly.

"Bear with me," Cal went on. He signed 'patience'. "I have to say this so just listen all right?" He pressed his fingers behind his ear. Lewis gave him a blank expression. "You're fifteen and she's a similar age," he didn't know for sure but signed 'same'. "And you're at that age where..." He paused. "You like each otha a lot so you want to... fool around and otha stuff." He used 'kiss' but his point was made. Lewis had the decency to look embarrassed, but he didn't interrupt.

Cal let his gaze shift a little and he knew Lewis wasn't looking directly at him, just enough to watch his hands. "But the thing is, you're only fifteen. You don't necessarily have to rush into doin' anythin' you're not ready to, or anythin' Hollie's not ready for." He used 'only', 'fifteen' and 'hurry', while shaking his head 'no'.

"It's not like that Dad."

"I know Lew cos, you're one of the good guys and I know you wouldn't pressure her." He didn't actually know that but by saying it, he knew Lewis would now _think_ about it. "Kids will talk at school, your friends, and they'll boast about doin' it." Cal almost sighed. Why was he beating around the bush on this thing? Just say it. He'd always just said things. "They'll brag that they've had sex but Lew I don't want you to think you have to do the same. Just cos they are. You do your own thing. You stay true to yourself. Your Mum and I, we don't want you havin' sex." He shook his head to make his point as he talked, singing the key words.

"Dad," Lewis started.

"Yeah I know, it's embarrassin', me talkin' to you about it," Cal held up a hand to stop him from talking. "But this is how it is. You're fifteen but you're still a kid," he said it purposefully kindly because he didn't want a talk to be a lecture and a negative thing. He wanted Lewis to think about what he said, not get annoyed he was saying it in the first place. "Don't give up on your childhood so easily. Get to know Hollie really well and treat her really well. I mean that Lew. Sex for girls is really different for guys. We're basically ready to go at the drop of a hat but it's not like that for them. They really need the romance."

"I don't really know..." Lewis started again. "How to do anything anyway," he mumbled. He signed 'how' and shook his head.

"Do anything?" Cal asked, meeting his son's eyes again.

Lewis looked awkward but he didn't break away. "I mean. I really like her and I want to... be close with her and stuff but... is it all right to just... hold her hand?"

"It's very all right," Cal almost felt relieved. Holding hands? That was totally fine.

"But what if she doesn't want me to?"

"Then she won't let you."

"But I want to."

"Then you should go for it."

"Just take her hand?"

"Yeah."

"And if she pulls away?"

"Then she doesn't want to."

"Oh."

"I don't know Lew. Just because she pulls away doesn't mean she doesn't like you or doesn't want to hold hands at all. Maybe, she doesn't want to hold hands at school in front of her friends. Or maybe your hands are cold? You never really know why someone does the things they do. You could talk to Hollie about it. Women love it when you talk about your feelin's. That's bonus point material." Cal raised his eyebrows and inclined his head slightly to make his point. Lewis listened attentively; he gave a nod.

"Just say to her 'I'd really like to hold your hand. Is that all right?' You sound a bit of a sap if you were talkin' to your mates about it, but Hollie would love that." Well she would if she was a typical girl. If she was a real hard ass there was a chance she'd tell Lewis to harden up his ovaries. Cal suspected she wasn't like that though. Lewis wouldn't go for a girl like that.

Lewis laughed a little. "Sometimes it seems so complicated."

"Yeah," Cal agreed with an enthusiastic nod. "It is. And the only way to really understand is to go through it." H raised his hand and 'flicked' his index finger up from against his thumb.

Lewis gave a slight smile. "You're lucky cos you know Mum actually likes you."

Cal laughed. "Yes I am! But it wasn't always like that. Your Mum and I... we were married to otha people rememba?" He cupped his right hand into the palm of his left and then mimicked jamming something into his brain with his thumb.

Lewis nodded.

"So I didn't always know Mum liked me. I didn't always know I liked Mum, in that way at least."

"How did you find out?"

"Uhm," Cal thought back. He read her. And he guessed. "I hoped she liked me so I took a chance and kissed her. But see you're lucky cos you already _know_ Hollie likes you. She asked you out didn't she?"

Lewis nodded with a thoughtful smile.

"So that's the hard part. Now you just gotta... take it slow I think Lew. Figa things out as you go along. She's your first girlfriend. Has she had otha boyfriends?" He made a fist with his thumb laying over the top and shifted it from left to write in a quick motion of his wrist.

Lewis shook his head.

"Maybe she's also a bit scared? If she really likes you back it can be scary." He signed 'frightened'.

Lewis nodded.

"Take it slow Lew," he smoothed the fingers of his right hand over the back of his left hand and up his arm a little. "Get to know her. Spend lots of time with her. Be really good friends. The rest will follow naturally. That's how it was for me and your Mum too. We were really good friends, best friends. We still are." He put more emphasis in his 'friend' signs.

Lewis nodded again and he was smiling once more. He looked more relaxed.

"But Lew. There will be house rules," he used his index finger to point to the top and bottom of his upheld left hand and suddenly his tone was hard. "You can't be alone with her at home or at her house. Sometimes you might be just kissin' or somethin' and all these hormones get all ragin' and things happen. When you're fifteen you're a horny little shit and you don't think about the consequences. So let me think of them for you. I am not raisin' a bloody grandchild all right? You keep it in your pants." Cal shook his head vehemently.

Lewis looked surprised.

"And when you're a little bit olda and a little bit more mature. Make sure you use a bloody condom. Every time. Even if they suck. And they kinda do. But you use them."

Lewis looked more shocked.

"Promise me," Cal demanded. He put his index finger to his lips then moved it down and pressed his palm with the open fingers against the top of the fist of his left hand.

"Oo-kay," Lewis stuttered.

"I mean that. For your protection," Cal pointed at him sharply. "Excuse the pun. You don't wanna be raisin' a baby do you?"

"No," Lewis shook his head vigorously.

"All right. Any otha questions?"

Lewis shook his head again.

Nah, probably not after that hard word. He probably wouldn't be coming to talk to Cal again about girlfriends or sex. At least not for a while, if ever again. "Come down in half an hour to set the table," Cal added and slid towards the edge of the mattress. He jumped down to the floor with a thud.

"Um Dad?"

"Yeah buddy?" Cal turned to face his son again.

Lewis shook the hair from his blue eyes. "Thanks Dad."

Cal gave him a slight smile. "You're welcome."

"Would you, maybe, help me with other stuff? Not sex," he mumbled and broke eye contact, looking down at the carpet before looking slightly towards his father. "But like stuff I should say or, what I should do?" He used 'wh' hand gestures.

"Anytime Lew," Cal nodded, feeling please and proud. "You know where I am if you wanna talk. Any time."

Lewis nodded again. "Thanks Dad."


	85. Chapter 85

The phone beside Gillian's elbow began to ring and she reached for it absently. "Doctor Foster," she greeted pleasantly.

"Fosta fuckin' what?" Cal responded indignantly. "You usin' a false name again to pull?"

Gillian, was, for half a second, confused and slightly affronted, and then she realised it was her husband, so she laughed at him. "No, to doge the IRS. What do you want?" She asked him, trying to sound sharp, a feat ill-accomplished when he was so good at making her smile. "I'm busy."

"I was lookin' for my wife but you sound hot, what's your name?"

"Hm, well, my husband calls me darling or luv or honey. What would _you_ like to call me?" Gillian turned her tone sultry. Thank god her office was at the end of the hall. Less likely to be overheard that way.

Cal chuckled. "How about Sexy Minx? You sound like a sexy minx."

"Hm," Gillian laughed again. "Sounds naughty."

"Ooff," Cal groaned. "Why you torture me?"  
>"Do you give up?"<p>

"I cave. Before I have to go spend fifteen minutes in the bathroom."

Gillian laughed again, surprised by his brazenness, when she shouldn't be. She should be used to it by now. She felt heat flood through her. "Did you actually want something?" she returned her voice to normal. "Because I _am_ actually busy."

"Nah I just rang up to talk dirty with you down the phone."

"Aw well that was fun but I have one more patient to see. Can't very well do that properly if you've enticed a party in my pants."

Cal chuckled. "Could. It'd be fun to watch. Ooh I'm so picturin' you makin' a dirty mess while tryin' to keep a straight face."

"Stop it," Gillian complained with a serious tone.

"I actually rang cos I suspect you asked me to take Owen to practice this aftanoon and it's kind of half slipped my mind."

"I did. And you agreed."

"Thought so."

"That's still ok right?"

"Yeah course. I just... didn't want to leave the poor kid stranded while I forgot about him and then blamed it on you late-a."

"Aw such a good Daddy."

"Now call me big boy but kind of moan it into the phone."

Gillian felt another tingle. "Seriously Cal, stop it, or I'm hanging up."

"Fine," Cal grouched. He gave a sigh and Gillian pictured him leaning back in the chair behind his desk, possibly putting his feet up on the corner of the furniture. "Don't you have a patient anyway?"

"Not just yet."

"Oh." He paused. "So you'll talk to me for a minute?"

"I suppose," Gillian teased.

"Why Fosta? I don't like Fosta."

"I know. We've had this conversation," she told him gently, looking across her small office to the window.

"Yeah yeah," Cal cut her off. "But when I ring can you not ansa the phone with Fosta?"

"Shall I also get out my magic wand to foretell your phone calls?"

"I'm not eva ringin' you at work again," Cal bitched some more. "All you do is be mean to me."

"You totally brought it on yourself. Besides, if you rang my cell phone I would actually know it was you and could answer appropriately."

Because the receptionist out the front would have answered Cal's call and routed him through to Gillian.

"So what are you wearin'?" Cal changed the subject. "Oh no wait, that's off limits and so... nope I don't actually have any otha reason to call you. If you're not gonna put out I'm basically out the door."

"Oh Cal you're such a romantic," Gillian responded dryly. "But you know, keep that thought. We can turn it into something tonight."

"Now you're talkin'," Cal's voice was all warmth once again. "Bye darlin'. Love you luv. See you late-a honey."

Gillian gave a slight laugh. "Love you too Cal."


	86. Chapter 86

Gillian felt Cal get out of bed. She heard him in the bathroom and really, she should get up too. They had been lazy enough this Saturday. There had been plenty of cuddles and a little bit of feeling up too. Which was really nice. Gillian was awake, sort of, or at least she would be if she bothered to open her eyes and sit up and not snuggle further into the pillow and pull the blanket higher. It was so very warm and comfortable in their bed. She half hoped Cal would come back and resume... cuddle time... The other half hoped he wouldn't. Sometimes having a moment alone was exactly what she needed. She felt the pressure of her husband on the mattress, the way she dipped towards him a little. Ok. If he wanted more cuddles that was fine too. She really did like smoothing her hands over his skin, liked it better when he did the same. But he planted a soft kiss on her forehead and leaned away again. She heard the rustle of clothing against skin as he dressed and then the soft click of the door and Gillian gave a satisfied smile to the pillow and shifted a little bit more to get extra comfortable and then settled still again.

Time went by and she was pretty sure she was half dreaming and dozing; this was really nice. She heard the door again, the quiet turn of the handle and figured that that was Cal back, probably to get her up. She wondered how late it was. She hoped he had brought coffee. If he was going to force her out of bed, he better come bearing gifts. She expected to hear his voice, the low rumble or a soft whisper, perhaps the curtains but she got neither. Instead she got a very soft, higher pitched stage whisper, "Mum, are you awake?"

That was Owen. It was easier to tell because Lewis's voice had broken and now he sounded a bit like Cal. But with an American accent. That way, she could tell all her boys apart. "Yeah baby?" She murmured. She was facing the wrong way.

"Can I climb in?"

"Sure," she agreed, shifting her butt over a little to give her son more space. He pulled back the covers and climbed up, shifted to readjust and curled at her back. If she had a bit more presence of mind, she might turn over to hug him. He was cooler than she was and his bare feet icy. She flinched away as he put them against her calf. He giggled and she huffed but he moved them away again.

Owen's voice might not have changed yet but his body was starting to. He was getting taller and broader in the shoulders. He wasn't just a skinny little kid anymore. Sport had helped with his muscle tone so he was, technically, bigger than Lewis, though Lewis was taller and always would be older. Gillian could feel the tightness of the eleven year old's chest at her back though and was reminded of her surprise in seeing him dress the other morning. He was toned and defined and admittedly, a good looking young dude. Cal was right; he was going to be a heartbreaker. She should get Cal to give him the speeches he'd given Lewis about girlfriends and being a good _man_.

"Mum?"

"Yeah?"

"You know Scott?"

Owen's friend from school. Who was also on his baseball team. He'd been over to play a few times but Gillian didn't think they were necessarily close.

"Yes."

"He said he sort of liked me not like a friend."

Gillian opened her eyes and caught a bleary glimpse of Cal's bedside table and the wall next to the bathroom door. "What do you mean?"

"He said he sort of liked me not like a friend," Owen repeated.

Gillian turned over so she was on her side facing him and pulled her head back so she could focus on his face. Not that she needed to see his face. Well she did, but not in the way Cal liked to see faces. She wanted to see his face to show she was listening properly. She picked the crap out of her eyes and pushed back her hair and then she studied her son. He waited for her to respond, blue eyes wide, expectant. "You mean, he told you he doesn't want to be your friend anymore?"

"No!" Owen almost laughed. "He said he liked me as _more_ than just a friend likes another friend."

Oh! Click.

"He likes you?"

"Yeah," Owen answered softly. Scott was nearly twelve but Owen had just turned eleven.

"Do you like him?"

"Hm," Owen twisted his mouth to the side while he thought. "Not like that."

"It's ok if you do," Gillian responded.

"Yeah I know," Owen said matter-of-factly. "But I just don't. I thought about it. Cos Scott's pretty cool. But I don't."

"Do you _want_ to like him as more than a friend?"

"Not really," Owen gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Ok. What did you say to Scott?"

"Um I said 'oh cool'."

Gillian waited for more but apparently that was it. "Ok," she gave a slight nod. "And then what happened?"

"I don't know really. Scott kind of just walked off."

"He probably hoped you'd say you liked him too."

"Oh."

They were silent for a moment.

"Do you mind that Scott likes you?" Gillian asked carefully.

"Why would I care?" Owen responded.

Ok fair point. That was her childhood conditioning rearing its head. She hadn't really even known what being gay meant until she was in college. There were never gay people on TV or in the media. Not that she'd been particularly bothered, she'd always been open minded and she sat on the fence of 'it's just how some people are' rather than 'its genetic' or 'its a disease to be cured' or 'it's a choice'. It was only a choice to embrace a part of self, in Gillian's opinion. No different than accepting her hair was going grey or no matter how hard she worked out, she was never going to be a size eight and those stretch marks would never go away, nor would her stomach go back to being completely flat. That was just the way she was. And she could spend forever dieting and stressing out about it, or merely accept the fact that her body had had two babies. She could always dye her hair if she so desired.

"Knowing he likes you doesn't stop you from wanting to be his friend?" Gillian asked softly. Owen gave her a mouth pout and another shrug to say he wasn't bothered. Ok. That was good. That was a healthy way to look at it. She was being stupid. She was projecting.

"Dad knows Kent's gay and that doesn't bother him does it?" Owen asked lightly. Purposefully lightly it sounded like.

"No," Gillian responded. Really fair point. Sometimes her kids really surprised her. But then, Kent had never actually told Cal he liked him _in that way_, so maybe it wasn't really the same thing. Cal would tell her she was over thinking things right now. Sometimes it was better to take their cues from their children about what they needed. Sometimes a lecture was appropriate. In this case Gillian figured she'd just wait for Owen.

He gave a little sigh, as if on cue, and reached out to finger the lace around the top of the shirt she was wearing. An actual pyjama shirt this time. Not something of Cal's and not, thank goodness, buck naked. "I just... I don't want Scott to feel bad," Owen murmured.

'_Awww_,' Gillian gushed inside, wanting to wrap him up in a hug. Both her boys; sweet little men.

"Jimmy told Chanelle he liked her and she laughed at him and told him to leave her alone."

"That wasn't very nice," Gillian noted.

"Yeah," Owen agreed and she felt relief.

'_Good response Wen_.'

"Well," Gillian spoke again when the boy fell quiet, his cool fingers fidgeting intently against her collarbone. With two people in the bed again it was starting to get hot. "I think you started off well. By saying that was cool. You didn't laugh at him and tell him to go away."

Owen met her eye and she could see some sort of relief in them as well.

"I think you were honest, which is always very important. But I also think there are nice ways to tell someone the truth. And you did that. I'm really proud of you," she smiled, gushing again.

Owen gave a little pleased grin and then his face got serious again. "What if Scott doesn't want to talk to me anymore?"

"Well unfortunately that would be up to Scott wouldn't it? We can't make other people do the things we want."

"Yeah," Owen agreed glumly.

"I think you should continue to be the really great friend that you are Wen. You can't be _more_ than his friend but you still _want_ to be his friend right?"

"Yeah," Owen nodded.

"So. Carry on like you normally do. You guys hang out at lunch right?"

Owen nodded again.

"And you have practice together."

Owen nodded once more.

"Scott surprised you the other day right? When he told you?" Gillian guessed.

"Yeah," Owen was firm in his confirmation.

"Maybe you could talk to him about it."

Owen's eyes slid to hers again. Owen wasn't a talker and she could tell already that he didn't like that idea. "Just to say he surprised you but you didn't want him to think you didn't want to be friends anymore."

"Oh," Owen mused over that. "I guess."

"Or something like that," Gillian added.

He might not. He probably wouldn't actually, but the words might come out in their own way, at some point. If Owen was thinking about them he might behave accordingly anyway. Cal sometimes said they should plant the seed of an idea in their kids' heads. They didn't have to get the concept straight away but if it was there, then every time it was brought up again the little seed would get a bit more growth, until it had roots. Cal had some pretty smart ideas about parenting if he gave himself half the chance to think about them. Gillian might have her books and her learning but Cal had always had phenomenal instincts.

"Thanks Mum," Owen leaned forward suddenly to give her a kiss, then clambered out of bed and Gillian realised, that he had, in fact, wanted to talk.


	87. Chapter 87

Cal was on dinner duty with Lewis. The thirteen year old was at the sink, peeling the potatoes for mash, while Cal prepared little rump steaks to make schnitzel. Owen had just been instructed to unpack his school bag, which meant getting out his lunch box and homework and hopefully anything else that had taken up residence in the dark depths of the bag that did not belong there. This was the night Gillian worked late and so this was the night that Cal was on duty. He had finished up work in the afternoon and come home, then walked down to where the bus dropped the boys off and brought them home. They'd had an after school snack and watched TV, talking about their days, and now that they'd had a small break, it was time to get back into duties. Which meant dinner and homework.

Owen slammed his lunchbox down on the bench. "Careful," Cal warned him.

"I have this thing you have to sign," Owen told him.

"What is it?" Cal turned for the pantry to get the flour and breadcrumbs.

Owen followed him across the room, the slip of paper in his hand. "It's a thing that means I can play baseball."

Cal turned with a container in each hand. "You want to play baseball?"

"Yeah," Owen gave an enthusiastic nod.

Cal headed back for the bench where he was working and Owen followed him. "All right. Tell me about it."

"You have this bat."

"Not the game," Cal cut him off, not sure if he was answering seriously or taking the piss. "Are you playin' for school?" He put the containers down and turned to the eight-year-old.

"It's a minor league team," Lewis spoke up. "The school organises for kids to sign up."

"What days do you play?"

"Saturday morning," Owen answered. "And you have to get a uniform. Can I play?"

"Uh yeah if you want to," Cal decided. That shouldn't be a problem. He shouldn't have to run that by Gillian first.

"You sign this that says I can," Owen pushed the slip towards him again.

"I'll sign if afta dinna all right? Remind me." Which meant if he did need to run it by Gillian he wouldn't have over committed.

"Ok," Owen agreed.

"Put it right there on the breakfast bar. With your homework," Cal directed. "What about you Lew? Are you gonna play a sport this year?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

Lewis gave a shrug. He finished the last potato and put the peeler down on the bench so he could gather up all the skins. "I never play sport Dad." He stopped what he was doing to sign 'sport'.

"Yeah I know," Cal noted pouring smaller amounts of flour into one container and breadcrumbs into another. "Maybe you should." He went to the fridge to get eggs and milk. "What sports do you like to play at school?" He used 'sport', 'like' and 'school'.

Lewis gave a shrug.

"Come on Lew," Cal gave him a nudge. "You must play somethin'." Lewis started washing the potatoes under the tap and placed them on the chopping board to cut before they went into the big pot on the stove. Cal broke the eggs into their own container, poured a little milk and beat the eggs with a fork.

"The big kids do soccer and basketball," Owen piped up from where he was sitting at the breakfast bar, making a start on his homework.

"What do you enjoy playin'?" Cal turned his head towards his eldest son again. He signed 'like' again and waited for an answer.

"Nothing," Lewis mumbled, giving a shake of his head. He turned away to retrieve the large pot from under the bench.

Cal frowned to himself. It wasn't like Lewis to be difficult about a topic of conversation. When he had problems at school he came to one of his parents for help. But that was school work related. Maybe this wasn't school work related. Maybe this was something else. Cal worked silently for a moment while Lewis cut the potatoes and put them in the pot. He filled it with water and carried it carefully to the stove. "What's next?" He asked when he got back, moving his right flat hand from behind his left to the front, like shuffling forward a card in a deck.

"Carrots," Cal directed him, moving his hand to beside his mouth and turning it slightly, a similar movement to mock crying. It was getting warmer already and soon they would do away with cooked vegetables and move to salads. He crumbed the pieces of beef, flour, eggs then bread, and set them aside to shallow fry just before the potatoes were ready to be served up. Lewis came back to his work area with a handful of carrots from the fridge and put them the sink. Cal nudged his son out of the way to be able to wash his hands.

"Dad I'm stuck," Owen announced, jamming two fingers into the side of his throat for 'stuck'.

"All right," Cal dried his hands and headed around the bench to where his youngest sat. It was a maths problem that Cal could identify easily. He reminded Owen how to multiply two large numbers using the 'bow tie' method, then headed back to the kitchen. Lewis had finished with the carrots and was cutting them into smaller sections. "Lew. I want you to play a sport this season. You can pick one, but you will play this summer," Cal told him firmly, placing a hand on his son's shoulder to make sure he had his attention.

Lewis looked up at him surprised. "Why?" He made a 'wh' question gesture.

"Because bein' physically active is good for you." He used 'healthy'.

Lewis pouted but he didn't argue and looked away again.

"You could play baseball like Owen," Cal tried to encourage, sensing the teenager wasn't very happy with him right now, taking Lewis's arm again to try and get the kid to look at him. But Lewis shook his head. Cal suppressed a sigh. Maybe he needed a moment to think about it. "Do you not like sports?" He made two 'S' hand shapes and sort of rubbed them together, back and forth.

Lewis shrugged. Cal bit back more frustration. Lewis was not normally like this at all. Cal tipped the breadcrumbs into the egg to mix it all up and made little stuffing balls. He added some herbs and powdered chilli, salt and pepper, then shaped them. The left over flour he binned. When he was finished that he washed his hands again, checked Owen was absorbed with his work and took Lewis by the elbow gently, to once again, get his attention. "What is it?" He asked softly when Lewis had turned full body towards him. "That botha's you. You don't like team sports?" He used 'group' because he didn't know 'team'.

Lewis shook his head, avoiding his father's eye.

"How come?" Cal pressed. "It's not like you to avoid somethin'. What's botherin' you?" He used 'upset'.

"I can't hear," Lewis muttered. He looked up and met his father's eye. He gestured to his ear with his left hand. "The other kids. I can't hear them very well. They... they get mad at me if we lose." He used 'angry'.

"All right," Cal backed down quickly, surprised a little, that kids were like that, that he hadn't thought of that difficulty (like in the swimming pool or on the field with wind and noise and large distances), and that Lewis hadn't mentioned it before. "Do you want me to?" He started.

"No," Lewis quickly responded with a shake of his head. "Don't go talk to my teachers." He moved his hands to near his head, his fingers pressed against his thumbs and moved them towards Cal slightly, like he was taking off a hat.

"Ok," Cal agreed. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "I wouldn't have... harassed you if I'd known." He used 'pressure' by pressing his right palm down on top of his left fist firmly and letting them both drop down.

"I know," Lewis sighed. "It's not a big deal," he signed 'important' and shook his head to mean 'unimportant' but his right shoulder rose and dropped and Cal felt that urge to go and kick some kids asses.

"An individual sport then," Cal countered, using 'single'. "Your school have those?"

"Sure yeah there's tennis."

"How about tennis then?"

"Sure," Lewis turned back to the bench again.

Cal stepped up and wrapped his arms around his son, giving him a squeeze, planting a kiss on top of his head, then let him go again. "Good man."


	88. Chapter 88

It had been so long since Cal had been in a pub he was actually surprised to find he seemed to have forgotten what they were like. They were noisy and warm and smelt like stale alcohol, and, cigarettes. This bar was modern, floor to ceiling windows that let in the bright evening sunshine of a summer about to break forth. The tables were in black, the chairs a charcoal grey; everything with that twenty-first century 'feel'; snooty, city, clientele. Did Eli really drink here on a regular basis? It seemed more geared towards corporate and Eli in his casual jeans and slightly wrinkled chequered shirt was somewhat outside of those boundaries.

People, mostly suits and professionals, drank and watched each other, or were in groups, clearly an after work crowd, not bothered with what anyone else was doing there. The group Cal was with though, was a mix of the two. Cal was there with Eli and a few of the other guys from the office. Reynolds was coming later, if he could. Eli had organised this. He said they should go out to 'wet the baby's head', a term Cal had no idea how he'd found but liked the idea of. Wetting the baby's head: having a drink in honour of the birth of a baby. Cal's baby, his wee munchkin, his Lewis.

"To the new addition," Eli raised his glass of beer after they had all settled with beverages. Eli had bought the first round. Cal did the same and there were echoes of congratulations amongst their group. Cal gave a nod of appreciation, nudged his 'handle' against the others and drank to his son. His son. Unbelievable.

He wondered if Gillian was all right at home with the baby. He had traded a night out now for the one she would have with her friends after she was allowed to drink again. After Lewis was weaned. A whole year and a bit away. Except, Gillian would go out with her friends, close friends, women who she socialised with regularly. And Cal was here with work colleagues. It seemed a bit backward. When had he become so anti-social? Ok, to be fair, he was anti-social anyway, but all of a sudden it seemed to be so much more prominent.

Cal remembered going out to pubs back home frequently. He'd pull back the pints easily, talking shit and trying to hook up with some cute bird who took a fancy to him. He continued to do a bit of that when he'd moved to America, when pubs had become bars and pints were no longer twenty-four millilitres but sixteen and he'd had to learn beers all over again. That had been good fun. At least for a while. That was how he had wooed Zoe. In a bar. And now he must be an old man because what he really wanted was to actually just go home for some peace and quiet, to be with his current wife and new son. Although, he was pretty sure, push come to shove, that he could drink these light weights under the table.

"Hey Cal!" Reynolds greeted, a big grin on his face, his hand extended. "Congratulations! Healthy baby boy huh?"

Healthy might be a bit of a stretch at this point... but they were trying not to worry about it.

Cal clasped the FBI agent's hand firmly. "Thanks for comin' down. Eli will get you a drink." Seeing as it was his bright idea.

Eli put down is tall boy of lager and took Reynolds up to the bar to buy. The rest of the men in their group had found other people they knew and weren't actually paying any attention to Cal. That was good. He could sit there then and not have to force conversation. He was not a big fan of small talk. Eli and Ben arrived back from the bar. "So how's Gillian doing?" Reynolds asked sipping his beer.

"Good," Cal responded. "Tired, you know."

"Yeah," Ben agreed. "My sisters have a billion kids each. No idea where they have the energy to go running around after all of them."

"Do you see them much?" Eli inquired.

"They're up in North Carolina so I get back when I can," Reynolds turned to him.

Cal's phone started ringing. He shifted in his seat to dig it out of his pocket. Gillian. He suppressed a smile. "I've been gone less than an hour luv."

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your boy's night or whatever you're doing," Gillian sounded facetious.

"Wettin' the baby's head."

"Drinking. Yeah I got it," she shot back. "But can you get diapers on your way home?" Here her tone switched to apologetic pleading.

"Nappies?"

"I was out earlier and I completely forgot to pick up some _diapers_."

"Sure," Cal agreed. "I can get some _nappies_."

"Just when you're ready. I'm not saying right now. Lewis will probably hold out until the morning at least. So you could crawl in at one am and be fine," back to teasing.

"Was thinkin' three."

"Are you having fun?"

"So much," Cal responded dryly, lowering his voice just a little. Eli and Ben seemed to be engaged in conversation but Cal couldn't rule out one or both of them overhearing. And he didn't want to offend.

"Aw it's good for you to be social."

"Hm," Cal noted shortly. "I'll finish my drink and head home."

"Just when you're ready ok?"

"I'm ready."

"Cal," her voice seemed a warning.

"Gillian," Cal retorted. "See you soon." And he hung up on her. She hadn't made him come out but he was pretty sure if she had caught wind of him being invited out for a drink with the boys and turning it down she would nag at him to do exactly as she had just said, and be more social. He had agreed to come out for a drink before that argument could take place and because he didn't think it was a big deal but honestly, now that he was there, he realised how much he didn't need it. He didn't need to drink for the sake of it and he didn't need to have some mindless conversation with people he spent most of his day with. It was nice to go home to have a break from work. And it was nice to go to work to have a break from home. It was a nice balance. He liked it that way.

He missed Gillian.

He didn't get to spend his day with her anymore. He had to stop himself from wandering into her office to see if she had two minutes to hear him whinge. Or if she wanted a coffee. Or if there was something he could help her with, professionally or otherwise. He was used to her being pregnant and behind her desk...

"That was Gillian?" Eli asked.

"Yeah. Needs nappies." Cal reached for his drink, took a large mouthful.

"So you're going to leave?" Eli teased. "You really are whipped." He laughed a little but Ben didn't seem amused and neither was Cal.

He put his glass down and eyed Eli up. "Gillian didn't _summon_ me home. I want to go. Cos bein' with her, even if it's just sittin' on the couch, beats bein' in this noisy joint with you lot." He turned to Ben. "No offense."

"None taken," Reynolds responded amused.

"You call it whipped Eli but there is nothin' I wouldn't do for her, of my own accord, whetha she asked or not, which includes runnin' out to get chocolate ice cream at ten o'clock at night."

Eli immediately looked abashed. He knew the story of Mitchell, just like everyone else did.

"You can laugh and joke that I'm unda her thumb but she doesn't control me. She wanted me to stay. _I'm_ the one who wants to go home. It's a single man who thinks drinkin' all night and goin' home to an empty house is a lot of fun. Maybe you'll find a stranga to go with you, who will inevitably leave before you wake up the next mornin', whose name you might not rememba. But I know who I'm goin' home to every night for the rest of my life and it's a relief. I found someone who doesn't try to change who I am, who loves me for my flaws and all, who is my devoted comrade in all the battles with myself."

Had she ever. So many battles he didn't even know he was waging and she had stuck by him for years, guiding him and helping him and loving him. First as a friend, then his best friend, then as his lover, now as his wife. "That's real love Eli. That trumps a drink in the pub with your mates any night." Cal reached for his beer and took another large mouthful.

"Here, here," Reynolds agreed, raising his glass in salute and taking a pull himself. Eli sat quietly. Ben clasped a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Sorry Eli but I'm with Cal on this one. I'd love to have a woman like Gillian at my side. Hell, any woman who stayed long enough..."

Cal finished his beverage and set the empty glass on the coaster in front of him. "Spend less time tearin' otha's down and focus more on yourself," Cal added. "I consida myself lucky to have got Gillian in the first place, to have even met her, and now I would do anythin' to keep her. I'll change every dirty nappy, get up to every feed, if it lightens her load. Hot coals, the works. I'll even talk about my feelin's. That's how it works." Cal got up. "You have to be the best man you can be, othawise no one will have you." He clapped a hand on Eli's shoulder. "Thanks for the beer. Gill was pretty stoked you wanted to hona the birth of our son," he said it genuinely, then he leaned over to shake Reynolds hand in farewell. "Good to see you again. Thanks for comin'."

"Yeah you too," Ben shook. "Give my congratulations to Gillian."

"I will," Cal agreed. He slid out of the booth and headed for the door. He felt light inside, knowing he was going home to see his wife and son. Whipped? Well maybe. But he had never felt this _good_ before. And if he felt good, genuinely good and light and free, with no niggling doubts about mistakes or feeling as though something was missing, something wasn't quite right, like he had noticed but ignored in almost every other relationship, it couldn't be wrong could it? His feelings were his guideline. And Cal had phenomenal instincts.


	89. Chapter 89

Cal hadn't been to Owen's practices because he mostly worked at that time in the afternoon. Gillian had though, when she could wrangle a free afternoon, and she informed Cal that their son was actually quite good at baseball. Owen played third base when he wasn't batting and was third in the order, which Cal deduced, meant he was quite good, even though he knew that the policy was 'every kid had a turn'. This was the first chance Cal had had to actually see his son in action and he had to admit, aside from the pride of seeing their youngest slug the ball deep into left field and make an incredibly exciting out during the first innings, the entire atmosphere was thrilling. Parents and other children in the stands were decked out in league colours, with caps and shirts and other merchandise, including little flags that waved frantically when something exciting was happening.

It was the first game of the season; Owen's team were the Georgetown Giants. It was the bottom of the second inning and so far, Georgetown were up by three runs. Owen had made it home once, been run out once and had hit home two of his other players. The kid was good, even for eight year old clumsiness and a shorter stature in comparison to his teammates of the same age. It just went to show, size wasn't everything.

Lewis had found a few guys from some of his classes at school, and wandered off to sit with them, two rows further down the bleachers. He was mostly talking, not watching the game. Cal glanced down to watch him for a moment, his hands moving absently has he conversed with his friends, who did not sign; habits die hard. Lewis had picked tennis as his physical activity of choice but Cal was more worried about the reason why he had opted for an individual sport in the first place. Cal had told Gillian about the conversation he'd had with their eldest that night, later, when they were in bed and alone. While she had agreed Lewis being active was a good idea, she didn't agree that they should let the remarks of Lewis's classmates go without a response. This was not the first time they had dealt with negative commentary on his hearing aids but Cal countered there wasn't much they could do without going down to the school and embarrassing their kid further; such was the nature of bullying. What they could do was continue to teach Lewis to be strong. And Cal had every intention of doing that. He hoped he already was.

Cal turned his attention to his wife next. She was really getting into the game. Applauding and cheering loudly and booing the umpire when he called a player out. Admittedly, Cal hadn't exactly seen a lot of baseball, so there were moments where he was wondering what was going on or what rule had been broken, but he was still enjoying it immensely, sitting in the stands in the brilliant Saturday morning sunshine. Almost worth getting out of his perfectly nice warm and wife-filled bed for.

"Are you watching me or the game?"

Cal gave a grin and Gillian turned her head to smile at him, her blue eyes bright. "How do you even _know_?" He half complained.

"When you're staring? Eyes in the back of my head."

"They came in about the same time your milk did, didn't they?"

"Cal!" Gillian reprimanded him sharply, glancing quickly around to see if anyone was overhearing. Cal chuckled and she smacked a hand against his upper arm. "Time and place," she warned. "And yes." Cal laughed again and she gave him another bright grin and reached for his hand to squeeze. Her fingers were cold so Cal encased her hand in both of his.

"Can you believe our youngest is eight and kickin' arse out there?"

Gillian's smile widened. "No," she shook her head. "Well the kicking ass part yeah. Takes after his Dad."

"I'd like to meet this guy some day," Cal noted facetiously. Gillian rolled her eyes heavily and nudged him with her shoulder. She refocused back on the game and, dismissed, Cal turned back to pay attention too. The innings was over and now the teams would swap over. The Giants would go back to batting for the top of the third while the Potomac Pacers spread out across the sixty foot diamond. Cal went back to day dreaming. He didn't particularly enjoy seeing other kids do their thing. He wanted to see his kids. Lewis didn't have a competition game for another few weeks. He was starting from scratch. Owen seemed a natural and Cal had no idea where he got this inherited ability from. Certainly wasn't him. Maybe Gillian was hiding some sort of sporting prowess.

Lewis approached where they were sitting. "Dad can I have five dollars?"

"What for?" Cal looked up at him making a 'wh' hand gesture with one hand while the other still held his wife's. Lewis had let his hair grown longer and it was curly at the ends again. It was also in his eyes but that was exactly how he liked it.

"They're selling hot dogs over there," he pointed, making an 'eat' gesture.

"I'll see if I've got anythin'," Cal shifted his leg to get to his wallet in his pocket. He opened it up and pulled out some bills. "I'll give you a tenna if you get me one."

Gillian turned her attention to him again now that he had rescinded his other hand as well. "What are you doing?"

"Lew's gettin' me a hot dog. Want one?"

"No thanks."

"Somethin' else?"

"They have soda Mum." Lewis inserted his middle and ring finger of his right hand into the fist of his left, pulled them out rapidly and flatted his palm down on top of the same fist. It looked a bit like he had popped the tab of a can.

"I'll have a soda," Gillian agreed. She used 'drink'.

Cal handed Lewis a ten dollar bill and Lewis turned to walk away. Cal asked him for change and Lewis turned back surprised, but Cal gave him a grin. "I was kiddin'. You can have the rest." 'Joke' was making two 'X' hand shapes with the right above the left, moving forward twice, almost like striking a match. Lewis took off. "Thanks Dad," Cal muttered.

The kid on the base struck the ball hard. It made a loud cracking sound, that drew Cal's attention back to the game, and bounced off at a funny angle, coming to stop halfway between the pitcher, the third baseman and the back stop. They all looked at it while the parents in the crowd screamed out for someone to get it and for the batter to run. The kid tossed his bat and took off while the pitcher, third baseman and back stop told each other to get the ball. The batter ran to second before the back stop jogged to pick it up. She threw it to third, while also informing the poor kid that he was the one who was supposed to get it. Cal laughed while the coach issued instructions from his 'dug out'.

The next batter came up, swung three times and was declared out. He walked away, head and shoulders slumped and then it was Owen's turn again. "Go Owen!" Gillian called, clapping her hands, sitting up straighter to see, bouncing in her seat a little. Owen was right handed and he looked cute in his uniform, gloves and helmet as he stepped up to the plate. Everything always seemed slightly too big for him and the gear was no exception. His first swing was a strike. The second ball came in so close against his chest he had to step back and stumbled in the dirt. The Umpire warned the pitcher and Cal wanted to stand up to jeer. Gillian reached out quickly to put a hand on his thigh and he was pretty sure that was to steady herself from saying something but it also grounded Cal and reminded him to keep his mouth tamed.

Owen righted himself again, brushed off the dust a bit and took a few practice swings. He was such a little dude. He struck the next pitch and the ball bounced away casually to left field. It was retrieved easily but he made it to first and his team mate advanced to third in that time too. Lewis returned with their food and a drink.

"Where's yours?" Cal asked his son, handing the soft drink to his wife on his left.

"I didn't have enough hands," Lewis explained.

"Have you got enough for you?" Cal asked, meaning money, but not managing the sign with one of his hands occupied. Lewis nodded and walked away again, clambering over the feet of other spectators. While Cal had been talking, Owen had advanced to second. The game stayed that way for a while. The next batter struck out.

"Can I have a bite?" Gillian requested.

Cal handed the half eaten hotdog over and watched her take a bite. "Yeah you love a good bit of sausage don't you?" Cal murmured.

Gillian just about choked, her eyes going wide with shock. "For god's sake would you _stop_?" She growled, nudging him roughly with her shoulder. Cal laughed. "We're in _public_," she added on a low murmur. "Don't make me implement new rules with you." She finished with a glare.

"What rules?"

"No flirting in public rules, or nothing rude in public."

"That sounds like a dumb rule," Cal mumbled.

"I may even extend it to touch."

Cal crossed his arms over his chest and sulked.

"If you don't behave, I will make you."

She _had_ trained him to never leave a mark on her skin that could be seen by someone other than them. So there was a chance that she might

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks," Cal shot back, unfolding his arms again, aware that they were in public and while it might be funny to act like a hurt child with her, it would make him look like an idiot if someone else was paying attention to them.

"Want. To. Bet?" She gave him a glare.

"Can I have some lemonade?"

Gillian nodded. Cal reached between her legs where she was holding the drink upright. He thought about doing something naughty like running his hands up the inseam of her jeans but thought better of it. She would make a scene if he took it too far. And he _was_ at his child's minor league baseball game. And she could be really serious about appropriate public behaviour, especially when he threatened to take it too far.

Owen advanced to third and was in for a chance of getting home. The game got tenser for a moment as each successive batter struck out. With the bases loaded, this was about the time the batting order should produce some solid hitters again. Cal recognised Owen's friend Scott stepping up to the plate. He was older, so taller and bigger, and he was a strong batter. He slugged the ball far into the outfield and sprinted for first. Owen raced to home plate, then along the row of his teammates, high fiving all the way down to first base, where he also high fived Scott, who had made it there safely.

"Yes Owen!" Cal called out, clapping loudly, the can of drink between his feet. Even from back there he could see the massive grin on his son's face. Cal scanned the line at the food cart and found Lewis nearly at the front of the queue. Cal turned back to Gillian, pleased. She was clapping loudly too, just about out of her seat. "Oi, where's my hotdog?" She turned to him guiltily. "You ate it all?"

Gillian gave him an apologetic smirk, her eyes bright. "You know how I love a good bit of meat," she retorted softly. Cal's mouth dropped open at the hypocrisy but she leaned in to seal it again with a kiss.

"Fine then I'm drinkin' the rest of this," Cal told her as she pulled away again, taking another swig from the can.


	90. Chapter 90

Gillian groaned and turned over, pulling away from her husband and preparing to get out of bed. "I have to go get the boys."

"No," Cal's arm circled her hips. "Stay. Five more minutes." His voice was drowsy; though she wasn't sure they had actually gone to sleep.

"One."

"Two," Cal insisted. About once a month they got a weekend alone. Well not really a weekend but at least a good chunk of time on at least one of the days of the weekend. Sometimes the boys would stay over at their grandparents on a Friday after school to early evening on Saturday. On this occasion it was merely five hours on a Sunday afternoon but still, five hours was plenty of time to screw around. Literally.

Gillian settled back against her husband's bare chest, feeling satisfied and warm. While she enjoyed the weekend where she got to have the house to herself, she really did enjoy the small amounts of time she had with him alone even more. With two kids they didn't ever get the house to themselves and they hardly ever got to spend time alone. They also had to wait for her parents to invite the boys over. Gone were the days of asking for babysitting. It was better to save those up for emergencies.

A kiss was pressed against the back of Gillian's shoulder and she gave a little hum. "Lovely aftanoon," Cal noted.

"Oh yeah," Gillian agreed on a sigh.

Cal chuckled lightly, his finger tracing over the skin at her hip. "Those pills work a right treat."

"God yeah," Gillian agreed feeling a little spark in the pit of her stomach. Again. "I'm glad you went."

"Me too."

Gillian caved and turned over within his embrace. She should really have a shower before she got going. She had time and she didn't really want to show up on her mother's doorstep sticky and smelling of sex. It was better to warn Cal about the time. She knew he would keep her in bed. Or more accurately, she knew she would let him twist her arm to stay for a little bit longer. She pressed a kiss against his throat, then shifted up so they were more aligned and kissed his jaw, pushing him back, flat. "Confession?"

"All right," Cal agreed and his voice sounded a little strained, like he was having a hard time concentrating.

"I took some too."  
>"You what?" he pulled her away, surprised.<p>

"I read the bottle," Gillian gave a shrug. "They're for men and women."

Cal's eyebrows went up slowly. Then he blinked, processing. "Wow so that's why you can't keep your hands off me?"

Gillian laughed and rolled her eyes. She leaned in to capture his lips, teasing her teeth against the thinner skin. "You can't keep your hands off me," she whispered, then executed her move. She threw back the covers and scooted along the mattress to escape. She headed around the bed, feeling her husband's eyes heavy on her skin, making her stomach nervous with the scrutiny. She turned the shower on and went to the sink to get a band to tie her hair back out of the way, then got into the cubicle.

Cal joined her a second later. He crowded her, his hands in the curve of her waist, up her back to her shoulders. "You're right," he murmured just loud enough to be heard over the water. "Can't keep my hands off you." He leaned down to kiss her wet shoulder. But he also knew when that could be too much, so after proving his point he shuffled back to one side and let her have the water, washing himself in the scraps. Gillian got out first, dried off quickly and dressed casually. Cal emerged while she slipped on shoes. She crossed the room to where he stood, rubbing her towel through his wet hair. She didn't have to say anything about that either. He knew to get her a dry one out for her next convenience. Gillian pressed a kiss against the damp corner of his mouth, smoothing her fingers against the stubble of his chin, suppressing a shiver as she remembered the feel of his cheek against her thighs.

"Back in a minute," she told him. He gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Gillian headed across the state border to her parents place and rang the bell.

Three-year-old Owen answered and he bounced into her arms. "Hi Mum I missed you."

"Missed you too," Gillian gave him a squeeze and put him down again. "Where's everyone else?"

"Grandma's in there and Lewis and Granddad is gone in there," he gave a shrug, pulling her into the house, but didn't point anywhere in particular. He slammed the front door behind him and then Dana appeared in the hallway with Lewis. The boys thanked their grandmother for having them and she told them they were quite welcome. "Is Dad ok?" Gillian asked her mother, because it was strange for him to not make an appearance as well.

Dana's face suddenly changed. The genuine smile was quickly replaced with a false one. "Why don't you boys go wait in the car?" She suggested, giving Owen's shoulder a little nudge towards the door. Gillian handed Lewis the keys and they went out the front. Gillian could hear them arguing over who got to press the remote unlock button on the key chain but she was more focussed on her mother right now.

"Is everything ok?"

Dana stepped closer to the front door, her hand on it, her gaze out to the car, so she could see the boys. Gillian heard car doors slam. Then her mother looked over at her. "Your father's drinking again."

Gillian felt the world go suddenly silent and still. She held her breath, waiting for the punch line that never came. "What?"

"It's no big deal. It's under control."

So that's where he was now. Getting drunk in his den, just like he did so many days of her childhood. Gillian felt a sudden wave of nausea. She realised her mother was avoiding her eye, looking uncomfortable and there was something else there Gillian was having a hard time processing; oh that was shame.

"I have to go," Gillian noted, reaching for the door and pulling it out of her mother's grasp firmly. She went straight for her car and got in, not looking back. She turned to see if the boys were buckled in and told them off for not doing so. Owen was monkeying off the passenger headrest. He sat back abruptly at her sharp tone. Gillian turned the engine and backed down the drive without even checking both her kids were strapped in. She didn't remember driving home either. Just that her father was drinking again and she was imagining him slouched with blood shot eyes and a breath that could peel paint, alone in his den, shirt rumpled, not making it to bed that night but crashing out on the couch.

Oh god not again.

Gillian felt sick.

Not again. This couldn't be happening again. How could he even?

"Mum you went past our house!" Lewis noted from the back.

Owen laughed. "That's silly Mum. _That's_ our house."

Gillian came to, realised she had driven too far down the block. She pulled into a drive and turned the car back. As soon as she had parked in the garage the boys were climbing out. Lewis clambering over the centre to get out Owen's door. They left her there and the door wide open. Gillian slowly undid her seatbelt. She could hear the boys calling out to their father. Oh Cal. What was she going to tell Cal? He would... Actually she had no idea what he would do but she knew he wasn't going to be happy.

Gillian got out of the car and closed her door. She walked around the vehicle, closing the door the boys had left open too. She headed inside, closing the internal door behind her. She headed past the sunny portraits of her family on the wall; taken on a brilliant summer day in a park. She knew them by heart anyway. They'd had to get them updated after Owen was born. Actually it had taken them two years to get updated after Owen was born, so that he was a laughing toddler, straight blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. Cal was grinning in one picture, laughing his head off in the other; formal, informal. Lewis's light brown hair was darker now and his freckles pronounced. He had let his hair grow longer and he was sat in Gillian's lap in one, lunging for his father in the other.

By the time Gillian reached the kitchen she still had no idea what to say. She didn't know how she felt. Somewhere along the lines of confused and betrayed and shocked. Cal was listening attentively to Lewis and Owen telling him about their afternoon. They'd made cookies but eaten them all.

"You mean you didn't bring one for me?" Cal protested.

"They were too yummy," Lewis told him. He used 'eat' and 'good'.

"Aw," Cal complained. He looked up, smiling, to see Gillian, stopped in the doorway. "Gill, you all right?" He sounded mildly concerned.

Gillian met his eye, that happy grin, their afternoon together; her stomach churned. "Yeah," she gave a slight smile. It was forced but he didn't call her on it. "Fine."


	91. Chapter 91

Cal toyed with his phone. It was, technically, quite late, but he was wired, pumped up from the lecture he'd given earlier that day. He'd had dinner with the president of the American Psychological Association and then beers at the bar with other people of importance; experts in their respective fields, just like him. He surprised himself with how much he was genuinely interested in what they had to say. He must have come full circle; could actually be ok outside of his wife's presence. They had been married a gazillion years after all so perhaps it was inevitable. Was he bored with her? The thought worried him. He closed his eyes and saw her, could feel her body beneath his, knew exactly the way it felt to drive into her. He felt a throb start in his groin and, satisfied that nope, he still wanted her, opened his eyes again.

The hotel room was nice but it wasn't home and he certainly wasn't used to being alone, even if he could stand to be social again. He remembered a time when all he wanted to do was be home with his wife and kids. Gillian teased him about mellowing out in his old age. That was actually true. He was more willing to just go with the flow. Not that he was old. Absolutely not. He was still going to deny that every chance he got. He could pass for his very late forties if he tried.

Finally his phone buzzed and he opened the text with a drag of his finger. **HEADED 2 BED 2. WANT ME 2 CALL?**

Cal thought for a moment. He was ready for bed himself. He'd done his teeth and undressed. He always found hotel rooms warm and this one was no exception, so he was in his boxer-briefs only, propped up against the head of the bed. He should be going to sleep. He had another early address tomorrow, a question and answer scenario. He used to hate doing these conferences too. The last one he'd gone to had been a disaster, at least on a personal level; screwing Gillian when they were very drunk and not even together. He hadn't even been a speaker that time. And he'd avoided them since then. He'd done very well. That had been so long ago.

**NAH. ALL GOOD. WHAT U WEARIN?**

Gillian had gone to a few local meetings, she always did, because networking was supposed to be good for them. But she never went out of town. She had the kids to worry about. Not that Cal couldn't handle them. Actually, she never went out of town ever; business or for something personal. Neither of them did. Not since they'd had kids. Except for that time in Seattle.

**LOL WULDNT U LIKE TO KNOW? :P PJS COS UR NOT HERE 2 KEEP ME WARM**

Cal replied quickly.

**I AM IN SPIRIT DARLIN. JUST PRETEND THATS MY HAND IN UR PANTS**

Cal chuckled as he hit send. He wondered what she would say to that. Probably something dismissive. He expected a subject change. The next message came back quickly. She must be settled now, focussed on texting him.

**THIS 1? JUST DOESNT FEEL THE SAME WHEN I DO IT. U RUINED ME**

Cal sat up straighter, his heart starting to beat a little more intensely. Was she really? No. She... she was just talking... She had to be. Gillian didn't... Well she did. When he wasn't there. So maybe she was. His mouth went dry.

**SHOW ME**

She wouldn't reply to that. Surely. Or she'd just change the subject with another quip. Cal gripped his phone hard, waiting. He willed her to hurry up and answer. When his phone buzzed again he flinched. He opened the message, noting the image attached before it had loaded. It was a picture of her pelvis, her arm disappearing beneath her pyjama bottoms. Oh fucking hell! Cal felt his groin start to throb. He toyed with calling her. He... he wanted to but he also didn't want to be disappointed if she wasn't really. He studied the image carefully. It was definitely their bed room; he recognised the furniture and bed sheets and her pyjamas too, even though she rarely actually wore them in bed. If she was wondering around the house, yes. He took a deep breath, calmed down a bit and looked again. Glasses would help. He got up to get them from the table, noting he was a little stiff. Then he took his phone back to the lamp beside the bed and studied it again. He could see underwear but he wasn't quite sure if her arm was over or under...

The buzzing of his phone made him flinch harder this time.

**WHERED U GO?**

Cal answered without thinking too hard about it.

**2 GET HAND LOTION**

Cal settled on the bed again. So even if she wasn't really touching herself, oh god the thought of it was delicious, he didn't need to know one way or the other. She was clearly in the mood for some naughtiness. Sexting would be enough. It would be enough for him and Gillian could do whatever she wanted at her end of things, pun intended. Cal could ask her about it when he got home. Then he could have fun trying to read it off her face.

**OOOH GOOD IDEA. SHAME ITS NOT SUITABLE FOR INTERNAL USE. ILL HAVE 2 USE SOMETHING ELSE**

Cal groaned. His mind conjuring up images of her writhing, back arching off the mattress, face red, skin warm. Oh geeze. His groin throbbed harder. Serious naughtiness. He squirmed and had to take a second to get his thoughts back together. He thought of something dirtier than what she'd said but hesitated before sending. Maybe that was too much. Too graphic? They'd not done this before. Sometimes she shied away from different or new sexual boundaries. He deleted the characters and tried again.

**I LIKE URS**

That was better. So then he went back to waiting. His heart rated dropped again and his breathing evened out.

**EVER THE GENTLEMAN. WHAT R U WEARING?**

Cal smiled. That was an easy one.

**UNDIES ONLY**

**COULD I PERSUADE U 2 TAKE THEM OFF?**

**DEPENDS. MITE B DISTRACTIN 4 U... THINKING BOUT ME. U WONT B ABLE 2 SLEEP AT ALL 2NITE**

There was a pause before there was a response.

**LOL YOU R RIGHT. INCREDIBLY DISTRACTING... DO U MISS ME?**

Oh well that was a no brainer.

**COURSE I MISS U! WILL B HOME SOON. LOOKIN 4 WARD 2 IT :D ;)**

**IS THAT COS THE REUNION SEX BETWEEN U AND ME IS SO FUCKING HOT?**

Cal groaned. It really was. And she seemed so very determined to carry on this conversation.

**ALREADY PLANNING THE DIRTY THINGS IM GOING 2 DO 2 U**

The response was rapid.

**TELL ME**


	92. Chapter 92

Cal stood at the end of the hall, keeping an eye on his youngest as he answered the front door. Owen was six but Cal was still a little wary of him opening the house up to any old stranger. It wasn't a stranger though, it was Emily; Cal just wanted to make sure. She gave Owen a hug and he ushered them inside. Ajay followed his wife in. Cal turned away again.

"Is that Em and Ajay?" Gillian asked from the kitchen. Lewis was helping her make pizzas.

"Yep," Cal confirmed and then his daughter and her husband came into the room with his youngest son.

"Hi everybody!" Emily greeted with a grin. Cal gave her a hug and shook Ajay's hand. They all said hello to each other. "Ooh what are you making here Lewis?"

"Pizza," he said with a smile, raising his hand for a double 'Z' movement.

"It looks great."

"Can I get you a beer Ajay?" Cal asked. "Em?" She shook her head 'no' but Ajay accepted the offer.

Lewis pointed out the toppings to Emily and Owen bounced around excited. Gillian told him to calm it down a bit and to ask Emily if she wanted something else to drink, if she didn't want a beer. Cal popped the cap on Ajay's beer and handed it over. He had one for his wife as well and she thanked him with a smile.

"Do you want a drink?" Owen asked his big sister politely.

"Yes thank you," Emily responded just as courteously.

"What do you want?"

"What do you have?"

Owen screwed up his face to think. He reeled off the options while Cal directed Ajay to take a seat at the breakfast bar. That way they'd be close enough for continued conversation. Emily decided on juice, and Owen got her a glass and shakily poured. He asked if he was allowed some too, which Gillian said he was, so long as he poured some for Lewis, who was now on cheese grating duty.

"What have you been up to Ajay?" Cal asked, swigging his beer.

"Working mostly. And we had Em's Mom to stay."

"How is Zoe?"

"Working hard," Emily responded heading around the bar to sit on her husband's other side, giving his arm a squeeze as she had to push herself up to sit on the tall stool. "Unlike some people."

"If that was a dig at me," Cal started. "You can just shut your mouth."

"Cal," Gillian warned. Two small, expectant faces looked over at him.

"I work hard," Cal went on. Emily smirked, Ajay hid a smile and Gillian laughed. "Where is this comin' from? Didn't realise I was unemployed."

"More like semi-retired," Emily shot back.

"I'm spendin' time with my kids," Cal countered with a gesture towards them. "Really. You lot are ridiculous."

"We're teasing you," Emily leaned over to give his arm a squeeze.

"It's Gill's fault anyway," Cal went on.

"Hey!" Gillian protested with a frown. "Owen I saw that," she added, still looking at Cal. Owen slunk back, his little stash of cheese between his grouped fingers.

"You went back to work," Cal informed her, as if he had to compensate for her absence now, ignoring his rascal son and continuing their conversation.

"I worked before I went back to _practice_," she corrected.

"Yeah that," Cal took another mouthful of beer.

"Don't drag me into this," Gillian told him lightly.

"Thought you were on my side," Cal mumbled.

He shifted his eyes rapidly to the right and Gillian gave him a grin before turning to her left, to where Owen was trying to sneak more cheese. "Hands out Trouble," she warned him. He gave her that cute grin that melted so many hearts. "I mean it," she threatened. "Why don't you set the table." It wasn't a question. The table had already been pulled out from the wall so everyone would fit around it. "Knives and forks for everyone. And don't forget there are extra people here." She asked Lewis if he was finished spreading cheese and he nodded he was.

"What do we need knives and forks for?" Owen queried. "You eat pizza with your hand."

"But remember last time we made pizza's the toppings kept falling off because the bases were nice and soft?" Gillian countered.

"Oh." Owen noted abruptly. Lewis helped Gillian put the first two pizza's in the oven, one on each tray. There was one more already made on the bench, which just needed cheese, and Gillian produced two more bases waiting for toppings. It worked out as one each for the adults; the boys were going to share. Owen started off with plates.

"We haven't had homemade pizza in so long," Emily noted.

"We're low brow here," Cal commented. "Lewis made the dough and all."

"Oh cool," Emily enthused.

"Ajay do you object to any particular toppings?" Gillian asked.

"No I'm happy to eat anything."

"This guy is an omnivore on a whole new extreme," Emily eye rolled.

"Just because you can't stand the smell of asparagus right now," Ajay started. Emily gave him a little glare and he trailed off quickly. Cal watched them, intrigued. His gaze slid to Gillian who glanced up at him and held his eye for a moment; she noticed it too.

"How long do I set the timer Mum?" Lewis called from the oven.

"Twelve minutes," Gillian turned to answer him, using her index and middle finger in a 'come here' gesture but up towards the ceiling.

Owen traipsed back into the kitchen to get knives and forks. Lewis was standing in front of the cutlery drawer. Owen opened it into his brother's hip who immediately protested, and did so loudly. He demanded an apology and Owen protested that he should have moved out of the way.

"All right," Cal cut them both off. "Owen's sorry and Lewis, move."

"We'd love to have you over for dinner at our place," Ajay filled the silence.

"But there is so not enough room," Emily finished and they exchanged another look.

"Are you thinkin' of movin'?"

"Margaret wants us to move closer to them," Emily responded. Margaret was Ajay's mother, and yeah, it was no secret she wanted the two of them to move closer to Ajay's family.

"She's been saying that for years," Ajay responded and he went back and forth with his wife softly like there was no one else in the room. Cal looked over at Gillian again. Something was different. She watched him too. She agreed.

The alarm on the oven started to go off and Lewis turned towards it while Owen bounced excitedly again. "Owen," Cal called. "Come ova here a second."

"I want to see the pizza," he pouted but he did obey. The Lightman's were lucky, their kids were rarely defiant.

Gillian removed the first tray and set it on the wooden chopping board while Lewis closed the oven door. She slid the food off, then Lewis helped her slide the next one that was ready onto the hot tray carefully. He opened the oven again so she could put the uncooked pizza in and take the last one out. She put that one on the other chopping board, the plastic composite, and they put the next pizza in again. Lewis reset the timer.

"What?" Owen asked, approaching where his father was sitting on a bar stool. Cal leaned down and lifted him awkwardly to his lap. From there Owen watched the exchange of pizza and trays. "That looks soooo good."

"Doesn't it?" Cal agreed. He took another sip of his beer. Owen asked to try it and Cal let him take a small mouthful. Owen immediately turned up his nose.

"That's yuck. How can you drink that?"

"I like it," Cal noted.

Gillian cut the pizzas and Lewis put them onto a platter, then invited everyone to sit at the table and make a start. Gillian released him from pizza duty. The last one only needed cheese, which she did quickly. The boys dug in hungrily and Cal directed them to leave a piece for Mum, which he put on her plate for her. He left her the head seat so she had easy access. He sat next to Emily against the windows.

"This is so good Mum," Lewis noted, leaning over the back of his chair to give her a 'thumbs up'.

"Thank you for your help," she told him back, moving her fingers from her chin forward.

"Yum!" Owen crowed. Emily and Ajay echoed their appreciation. Cal wiggled his eyebrows at his wife and she gave him a slight smile. It was quiet for a while, while everyone chewed, then the oven's alarm went off again.

Lewis got up. "I'll help," he offered, placing his right fist into his left palm and moving it towards her. Gillian thanked him again and they went through the same dance of swapping the last pizza over to the tray. Lewis took the platter from the centre of the table away to reload it. Gillian wiped down the bench while she waited this time.

"Refill?" Ajay offered starting to get up. Cal indicated yes. Ajay gave his wife's shoulder a squeeze as he went by; she was listening to Owen tell her about school. He got Cal a beer and refilled Emily's juice glass.

Gillian joined them at the table with the last pizza. Lewis offered the plate around and they talked, the boys about school, Gillian about her practice, Emily about work, a few tentative stories about her mother coming to stay.

Owen turned to Gillian with a confused expression. "How come you're not Emmy's Mum?"

The table went quiet.

"Cos Emmy didn't come out of Mum," Lewis answered, leaning towards his six year old brother, as if he were imparting a secret. "Her Mum is Zoe." He dropped his fork to finger spell the name.

Owen looked as though that information had only just occurred to him.

"While everyone's quiet," Emily spoke up. "Ajay and I have an announcement to make."

Cal turned his gaze to his daughter. Her wide brown eyes were a little wider than normal and her cheeks had a flush to them. She looked over to her husband and he gave a slight nod, trying to hide a smile and Cal was torn between guessing it was good news or bad news. Good news for them could mean bad news for him. They could say they were moving to Oklahoma.

"We're going to have a baby," Emily finished.

"Wow," Cal uttered.

"Congratulations!" Gillian cried out, standing rapidly to give Emily a hug. Emily got up from her chair stand away from the furniture, to embrace the older woman. Cal had to get up and walk around the table to also hug his daughter and shake hands with his son-in-law. He offered them congratulations too.

"How far along are you? Are you feeling ok?" Gillian bombarded.

"I want hugs!" Owen announced, climbing down from his chair to grab whoever was closest; Ajay.

"Dad," Lewis tugged on Cal's arm. Cal looked down at him, trying to hear his daughter answer his wife at the same time. "Does that mean we'll have a new cousin?" He looked a little confused, he made a 'C' hand by his ear and moved it in a circle.

"Nah buddy, it means you're gonna be an uncle!" He made a 'U' hand shape and rotated it in a tight circle by his forehead.

"And your Dad's going to be a granddad," Ajay added facetiously.

Owen turned to his father grinning. He made a 'C' in front of his mouth and formed it into an 'S'. "You're going to be so old!"


	93. Chapter 93

Cal leaned back against the head of the bed and slipped his glasses over his ears to read the paper. He'd only managed to unfold it along the central crease when Gillian came into the room and stood in front of him. Well more to the side, she didn't climb on the bed to literally stand in front of him. Cal looked up. She had bright pink cleaning gloves on and an unimpressed expression. "The boys peed on the floor in their toilet."

Cal watched her for a moment. He was tempted to ask her how it was his problem or what she wanted him to do about it in particular. It wasn't like he could go for them. But he thought better of making a quasi-snide comment that could start a fight. By the look on her face, it would probably start a fight.

"Can you talk to them please?" She asked, her voice a little sharp.

"I've talked to them," Cal responded carefully, lowering the paper. He was tired. It had been a busy week. He just wanted half an hour to read the paper in peace.

"Well they're clearly not listening."

"You talk to them then," he tried.

"Cal, you need to talk to them."

"Cos we have the same parts?" It was only really a half question.

"Yes," Gillian responded.

"It's not that easy you know."

"It seems easy to me. You tell them to pee in the actual toilet, instead of on the seat. Or the floor."

Cal suppressed a sigh. "I meant, aimin'. It's harda than it looks. Specially when you're young."

Gillian stood for a moment. Staring at him. Disbelief.

"I'll talk to them," Cal conceded, feeling the need, once again, to peace-keep.

"Thank you," Gillian grouched. "And you can clean it up." She stripped off her glove and tossed it at him before starting on the other. So. They were both grumpy then.

Cal tossed the glove back at her quickly. It bounced off against her arm and fell to the floor. Her glare got harder. Cal threw the paper to the side and made like he was going to climb off the bed. Gillian took a step back while she pulled the other glove off. Cal grabbed her before she could get too far away and her angry expression quickly turned to shock. He snatched the glove out of her hand and threw it to the floor with the other, while pulling his wife against him abruptly and falling back against the mattress. He felt the paper crumple beneath his shoulders and the heavy weight of his wife against his abdomen. She gave a surprised huff as they dropped.

"Why do I have to clean it up?" Cal retorted. "Huh?" He turned her over roughly, almost tossing her. She tried to sit up but he threw himself over her, crushing her back down with his body weight. She fought him with a little grunt. "You're not allowed to be grumpy."

"Why not?" She shot back.  
>"Because I'm grumpy," Cal growled. Gillian's hand came free and struck against his ear. "Oi," he grabbed her limb. "No hittin'." He pressed a shoulder against hers, forcing her back. She tried to bring up a knee for leverage. "Or I'll sit you in time out. Is that what you want? How about no TV?" Gillian laughed and finally gave up. Cal picked the hair out of her face carefully. He looked down at her. Her cheeks were red. "You feel betta now?" He asked softly.<p>

Gillian narrowed her eyes at him. "Because we had a roll around on the mattress?"

"Geeze," Cal breathed. "You really are in a mood."

Gillian tried to shove him off but he resisted, pinning her hand above her head. She struggled harder, then caved again, going still and limp. "Every time I go in there," she complained. "It's a mess. And I clean it and they just think the fairies must pick up after them."

"They're kids," Cal tried carefully. "They're still learnin'."

"Then they can start cleaning their own toilet. Then they might learn."

"That's not a half bad idea."

Owen was seven now and Lewis twelve.

"Gotta learn sometime. And then they might be more careful," Cal agreed.

Gillian looked up at him. She sighed. Then stuck out her bottom lip. "Why am I such a bitch to you when you're always on my side?"

"Cos you forget," Cal leaned down to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth. She shifted the angle of her jaw to capture his lips. "Cos you get grumpy and lash out at the person you trust the most to neva hold it against you."

"Yes that," she whispered. "I get tired."

"I know," Cal agreed. "Me too." He shifted back a bit, actually feeling less grumpy himself. "I'll clean the toilet. And then I'm gonna take half an hour to read the bloody pape-a and I'm not talkin' to anyone. Not even _you_."

"I'll clean the toilet," Gillian sighed.

"No it's fine. I like my martyr points."

Gillian gave him a little shove and this time he rolled away, so he was on his back. He expected Gillian to get up and toss the plastic gloves in his face. That's what he would do if he knew her anger wasn't real. Hers was though. He still had a grip on his. Instead she straddled over his waist. "Oooph," Cal was surprised.

Gillian gathered her hair in one hand and leaned down to kiss him again. "I'm sorry for being grumpy."

"You can apologise to me all night long," Cal retorted, wagging his eyebrows at her.

Gillian gave a little laugh and a half smirk and climbed off him again with an eye roll. She was not abated but he was trying. He felt like making a snide comment about her being on her period but stopped himself short. Two reasons. The first was, what had he told Lewis? A woman's period was not something to make fun of. Ever. Not even as a joke. Not even if she was laughing about it or if she had started it. It would always come back to haunt him. It was out of bounds. At all times. Never ever mention it, on pain of death. And the second was, Gillian was menopausal. That wasn't something to joke about, tease about, or laugh about; fertility was no laughing matter in her life.

Dodged a freaking bullet there.

Cal stooped to get the gloves from the carpet and stood up with a sigh. Gillian had gone into their bathroom to clean that instead so Cal traipsed down the hall to the end where the shared toilet was. If he couldn't figure Gillian out easily then he was too tired to try. Perhaps an afternoon nap was warranted. Cuddling up in bed with her for a few hours would be a very good thing for the both of them. The boys could entertain themselves until dinner time. Gillian really did need a time out. Sometimes it was all so very overwhelming.

Cal stepped into the small room of the toilet and studied the mess. "Oh great." It wasn't as bad as Gillian had bitched about but it smelt pretty unpleasant in there. The basket of toilet paper in the corner showed signs of dried out sogginess and discolouration. And now that Cal was looking he could see backsplash dried on the wall too. Ok so maybe it was as bad as Gillian had bitched about.

"Owen!" Cal thumped on the wall next to him, the wall that was shared with the boy's bedroom. It was probably unfair, but the most likely culprit was the youngest. "Come here!"


	94. Chapter 94

Owen wriggled and kicked his feet until Cal sat him in the water. It came up to the baby's waist. It seemed scarily deep for the ten month old. But for five year old Lewis it was probably a bit shallow. Nevertheless, he was the one who wanted to have bath time. And Gillian was having some alone time. So Cal was on bath duty. And that meant both of the boys in together. When Cal had to fly solo parentally, it was easier to keep the boys in the same place.

"Sit down Lew," Cal told his eldest, gripping the first two fingers of his right hand over the extended first two fingers of his left hand. Owen could sit up on his own but he couldn't take the apnoea monitor into the bath with him so there was another reason why Cal wanted them together. He couldn't go running after Lewis and leave Owen. There was the added bonus of him potentially falling over into the water. Cal was half tempted to get in with them. That would ease the ache in his back from leaning over the plastic. Not a lot of room though with three bodies of various sizes and a whole bunch of bath toys.

Lewis dutifully crouched in the water and sped a boat around in front of him, towards and then away from his little brother when the baby went to grab for it. Owen splashed himself in the face instead. Cal grabbed a wash cloth and started going over his youngest's skin, particularly in the creases created by extra weight. The kid was storing energy in preparation for walking. Or crawling. Though Cal didn't think he was going to crawl. He didn't seem to have the interest. He liked to get up on his feet though.

Lewis opted for a monster next, letting the boat drift on the waves Owen created by constantly shifting around and waving his arms. He made little 'oh's' when something came close that he could reach for but Lewis was always quicker. Cal worked the soft baby washcloth into the curve of the ten month old's ears, which made him squirm in protest. Cal had a hand on his shoulder to keep him upright. The ache of leaning over the edge of the bath had started in his back and shoulders. He finished quickly and sat back to rinse the cloth out, draping it over the edge of the bath down the end, out of the boys' reach.

Owen slapped his hands down against the surface of the water. Lewis simulated an explosion. Cal realised they weren't playing together. He shifted to sit on his knees so he was leaning over the edge of the tub again. "How about playin' with Owen?" He said to Lewis, making 'Y' hands and twisting them at the wrists.

"He's too leetle for playing," he made a 'small' gesture.

Cal blanched. Where did he get that from?

"Nah," Cal told him lightly, shaking his head, purposefully taking the boat Lewis had been essentially teasing his younger brother with and moving it closer to the baby so he could grab it. Cal glanced over at Lewis who had gone still, watching. The kid didn't look happy, though he wouldn't defy his father. He needed to learn to deal. Like most of his lessons, Lewis seemed to learn the best when it was by example. So Cal let Owen take the boat and found the water mill and stood it up right in the water. "You show Owen," he encouraged, pointing to his left palm, them moving both hands, still joined, towards Lewis like the dot Cal was gesturing to was what Cal wanted to show him.

Lewis seemed to sigh, though it wasn't audible, and searched around him for the cup that had always paired with the wheel. He found it behind him and scooped up some water. He tipped it into the top of the water wheel and set the first one, which was yellow, turning one way. The red one beneath it immediately turned in the opposite direction and Owen's blue eyes went wide with delight. He grinned and gave an excited 'oh', throwing the boat against the side of the bath and reaching forward for the water wheel, knocking it over.

"See, he ruins it?" Lewis noted. He started with his palms open and his hands apart, then brought them together harshly, with an angry expression, bunching his hands into fists, then pulling them away again to his original position.

"No," Cal corrected gently. He signed 'help'. "We just have to help him to learn. He doesn't know how to use his muscles like we do." Cal righted the water wheel and used a hand to gently sit Owen back. He moved the toy closer, so it was within his son's reach. He hung on to it even as Owen grabbed it and tried to pull, his movements jerky. "Your turn Lew," Cal directed him, encouraging with his other hand.

The boy shuffled closer and scooped more water. Cal watched as Owen went still with anticipation. As soon as the water started to fall he was squealing and wiggling away, kicking his feet under the water and waving an arm, a hand connecting with the surface to give a slight splash. Lewis gave a giggle and Cal grinned to himself. That was better, seeing his boys playing together. He sat back again and this time Lewis held the water mill upright so Owen couldn't knock it over with his poor motor control. When that got boring Lewis showed his brother how the water came out of the whale's mouth. Cal relaxed further and let them play, listening to the little suggestions of Lewis and the little murmur's of Owen. Lewis signed to his brother though it was obvious the baby didn't understand him or respond.

Cal figured he'd give them another five minutes before taking Owen out. The water would be getting cold, it wasn't overly hot to start with, and it would be easier to dress the little one before dealing with the big one. And Lewis still needed to wash his hair. "Hello," Gillian murmured from the doorway.

Cal looked over to see his wife come. "Hi. What are you doin'? You should be takin' advantage of alone time." But still, seeing her made his heart suddenly feel light. The surprises were the best, when he least expect it.

"I did and then I missed you," she gave a funny little pout. "I came to see if you needed help," she gestured to the bath, then crossed the room.

"Oh hi Mum," Lewis greeted loudly, obviously spotting her. "We're playing with the water," he made a 'W' and brought it to his mouth, his index finger touching his lip.

"I can see," she enthused.

"Oh! Ahp Mmm," Owen cried out, slapping his hands against the water again, throwing droplets up and out.

Cal collected a few, where he was sitting on the bath mat. "It's just about time to get out," he noted. "And Lew still needs to wash his hair."

"I'll take the little one," Gillian offered, turning to the rack to get the smaller white towel.

"Typical," Cal huffed. Owen let out a squeal and Lewis giggled loudly. Water splashed. Cal decided to shift away rather than wear it.

"What's that?" Gillian asked approaching again.

"Sure, take the easy one," Cal grumped.

She shot him a smile. "I can always go back to reading." She didn't wait for an answer, reaching out for Owen. Cal snatched the towel from where she had balanced it over her legs. "Time to get out sweetheart," she told the baby, reaching in with her hands. She lifted him under the arms. He gave another loud squeal as she picked him up. She brought him over the edge of the bath to the mat, where his father wrapped the towel around him. He bounced up and down on his feet for a second until Gillian swept him up in her arms and headed for the door.

"Aw," Lewis pouted. "We were playing." He made 'Y' hands.

"Time to wash your hair," Cal told him. He used 'clean' and 'hair'.

"Aw," Lewis complained again, but he sat in the water, on his backside this time, hugging his knees up against his chest. Cal knelt by the bath and reached for the cup. He curled his hand over Lewis's forehead, right up by his hairline and tipped water against his scalp, guiding it back with his free hand. Cal wet his son's hair entirely, commending him for sitting still, then told him to get the shampoo from the end of the bath; it was too far away for either of them to reach from where they were now.

"Did you have fun with Owen?" Cal asked, brushing his fingers against his nose and then down to his left hand. Lewis settled back into position and Cal popped the cap to squirt a coin sized amount of liquid soap into his palm. Lewis nodded. Cal wanted to add a 'see, told you so' but sometimes the situation didn't warrant it. Cal massaged Lewis's short brown hair and quickly got a lather. He made sure to get around the base of his skull and behind his ears, making his entire head foamy, being careful so none of it got in his son's pale blue eyes. Lewis closed them and his facial muscles relaxed. Owen gave a squeal from the other room that Lewis didn't hear. Cal focussed on his work then reached for the cup again to rinse. He was extra careful and attentive with the soap this time.

"I like Wen," Lewis suddenly announced, signing 'like' but finger spelling his brother's name 'O', 'W', 'N'. He had clearly been thinking about it for the last few minutes. "Even though he's leetle." 'Small' again.

"That's good to hear," Cal told him, giving him a 'thumbs up', making sure his son could see his hands. "Because he's your brutha. And he always will be."

"Will we be friends when we growed up?" He linked his right index finger around his left.

"I hope so," Cal noted. He finished rinsing and set the cup on the edge of the bath.

Lewis seemed to realise the experience was over. He let his knees go and straightened out his legs in front of him, hiding them beneath the bubbles on the surface of the water. "Do I get to teach Wen other things?" He brought his hands to his head like he was removing a hat and placing it down in front of him.

"Of course," Cal encouraged with a nod.

"Like what?"

"Uhm," Cal thought for a moment. "You could teach him how to tidy your room!" He leaned forward to tousle the kid's wet here.

Lewis screwed his face up and ducked out of his father's reach. "Can I teach him how to ride his bike?" He moved his hands like he was pedalling a bicycle.

"Lots of things," Cal agreed. Probably not riding his bike though. Hopefully that was one thing Lewis forgot about as he got older. "Time to get out," Cal told him. He used 'finish'. "Teeth and pyjamas and bed."

"Story?" He signed 'book'.

"Yes," Cal agreed. He got up from the tiled floor, feeling old and stiff and went to get Lewis's towel. The boy stood and shivered, then took careful steps towards the end of the bath to pull the plug. Cal wrapped the towel around his skinny shoulders and lifted him from the tub. Lewis gave a pleased laugh but Cal had to put him down again on the mat to get a better grip. The bedroom was empty when they reached it. Gillian had already finished with Owen and was probably feeding him in their bed to put him to sleep. Cal helped Lewis dry off and dress in his pyjamas. He rinsed out the bath while Lewis scrubbed his teeth. Then Lewis was allowed to pick two stories for bed time and they headed down to the master bedroom to read them.

Gillian looked over as they came in quietly and gave a slight smile. Owen was against the mattress and tried to sit up sleepily to see what was going on. Gillian pushed him back down again, shushing him softly, refocusing him on her breast. Lewis climbed up on the bed and settled next to his brother, lying obsessively still, his hands down by his sides, arms and legs straight and stiff, like he was in a coffin.

Sometimes the kid fully cracked Cal up.

"All right," Cal said softly, once he was leaning against his pillow. He took the first book and opened it to the title page. "Thomas and Friends," he started to read.


	95. Chapter 95

The Lightman's almost arrived in the maternity ward waiting area in a rush. It was surprisingly quiet there though so they came to an anxious halt. Gillian told the boys to find a seat. They had their tablet with them to watch movies or play games, so long as it was quietly, and they went dutifully to a group of chairs against the wall and took a seat each. Cal bee lined the reception desk and Gillian followed after him, half her attention on her children, half her attention on her husband.

"I'm lookin' for Emily Resnick," Cal asked the nurse politely.

"Are you family?" The woman asked while she typed the name into the computer.

"I'm her Dad," Cal clarified.

"She's in room three oh four," she responded with a smile.

Cal thanked her and pushed away from the desk. Gillian caught his arm as he turned. "You go on and I'll wait with the boys."

"I'll be a minute," Cal told her. "See the lay of the land."

Gillian nodded and went to sit with her sons and Cal headed up the hallway again. The tablet was supposed to be for both the boys, a Christmas present, but Lewis tended to hog it. He was playing Sonic the Hedgehog Revival. It was the same game as it always was, similar graphics too but clearer. There were new harder levels apparently. Gillian thought about demanding her turn on the device but figured she could snatch it one night when the boys were in bed. That was the only place they couldn't carry it, was to bed, and the bathroom, or school. But every other time it was up for grabs, though their parents tried to limit the amount of time spent glued to its screen.

Within five minutes Cal was back. He took a seat next to his wife and she turned to him immediately. "This is it," he gave a bright grin. "She's still five minutes apart but the docta's pretty confident."

"Did someone call Zoe?"

"Yeah Ajay called everyone before he called us."

Gillian nodded. "When will she get here?"

"Said she'd get the next flight. Should be bout an hour or so."

"She should make it in time," Gillian noted. "What about his parents?"

"Well they're furtha away," Cal pointed out the obvious. "But they said they'd head out."

Gillian nodded again, satisfied. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Not me luv, I've been banished to the men's waitin' room to pace. But she'd like to see you."

"Ok," Gillian got up eagerly and Cal watched her amused. She could deny it all she wanted, could even justify it by saying she wasn't _with_ Cal when Emily was growing up, but Emily was so her daughter too.

Cal leaned over the seat his wife had just vacated. "What are you playin'?" He gave Lewis a nudge, while twisting his 'Y' hand at the wrist.

**PJ**

Cal sort of paced. He would have called it hovering. He didn't really want to be listening in or anything, because that was just too weird. His daughter was having a baby right now. Was at this moment, pushing another human being out of her... Cal turned and wandered down the hall a few meters again. He was avoiding passing close by her door on purpose. He really didn't want to hear anything. At all. But he also had this twitchy need to be close because he knew all too well that births could be complicated. It wasn't like he could rush in and save a life with his crack medical knowledge... but being closer just felt better.

The boys were still playing their games. There had been a bit of elbow shoving that Cal had cracked down on hard. He wasn't in the mood and they were in a public place and their sister was having a baby. It probably didn't seem like a big deal to them but it was to everyone else. So they had to be good. They'd already talked about that in the car on the way over. The sharp sound of heels running against the linoleum floor made Cal turn again, curious. It was Zoe. She had a heavy bag in one hand and her purse had slipped from her other shoulder. She looked worried. Cal approached her quickly. "You haven't missed it," he grabbed her bags and ripped them away.

"Which room?"

"There," Cal indicated with his head. "Three of four."

Zoe reached the door, already pulling off her coat and pushed against it. Cal closed his ears too late against the sound of his daughter calling out in pain. That. That is exactly what he didn't want to hear. He put Zoe's bags down in the hallway and went back to his random wandering. It must be close now. His stomach squirmed with nerves. Geeze. He was going to be a grandfather! Emily was thirty-two and Lewis was eleven, Owen six and it was time. He knew that. Now he was going to have a grandson.

He heard a groan that was loud enough to make his head turn sharply and then it was quiet again. He approached the door, sensing that it was over and waited, then realised he looked like a stalker. He wandered away again. Paced back and forth. All right, now he was pacing. He tracked back and forth, his body tense with waiting. No one was rushing into the room, no alarms were being sounded. Everything must be ok. Then the door opened and Gillian came out, beaming and Cal pounced, grinning.

"Baby boy," Gillian confirmed softly.

Cal grabbed her for a hug that was meant to comfort him more than her. "Everyone's all right?" He pulled back to see her face.

She nodded, still smiling. "Everyone's fine. And Zoe got here in time."

"Yeah I saw her," Cal indicated the bags against the opposite wall.

Gillian squeezed his hand. "Emily did so great."

Cal nodded, proud. Of course he was proud but he was also a little worried. His baby girl had a baby boy of her own now. He wanted to lecture, tell her to be a good mother, put her baby's needs ahead of hers but he knew it wasn't necessary. Emily was not the kind to be selfish. She worked hard. She had in school, when she was practising law, and she would now with being a mother too.

"Let's go tell the boys they're uncles now."

Oh geeze that was weird too.

**PJ**

"Hi," Cal greeted softly, crossing the room to the bed where his daughter was holding a white wrapped bundle in her arms. She looked up and gave him a smile. She was glowing and Ajay was standing over her, beaming proud. Cal put his hand on his daughter's shoulder and leaned in to see the baby. "Who's this little guy?"

"Ethan," Emily answered.

"Ethan," Cal echoed.

"Want to have a hold?" She offered and Cal scooped the baby up easily. He adjusted his grandson into the crook of his arm and used his other hand to pull down the blanket around his face to see better. Dark hair and wrinkled skin. About how all babies looked after they had just been born. The baby gave him a frown of protest. "Hi, all right," Cal cooed, feeling Gillian at his shoulder leaning in. "I'm your Pop, Ethan." He tried the name out again. "That's a good name."

"Noah," Ajay added. Cal looked over at him. "Ethan Noah," Ajay explained. He gave a type of shrug. "Kind of a family name."

"Ajay's brother was called Noah," Emily expounded.

"Ethan Noah," Cal repeated. "Lovely. What do you think Ethan?" The baby attempted to wave an arm but was swaddled nice and tight so couldn't really move. "Forget how small they are," Cal noted.

Gillian gave him a smile. "He's beautiful," she told Emily.

"Here," Cal indicated he was going to give the baby to Gillian. She put out her arms and he handed the tiny bundle off. He turned back to his daughter. "So we'd offa to come help out and all but it seems you're gonna be ovawhelmed for a while." Zoe was staying for a week or so and Ajay's mother probably would too. Cal and Gillian were the only ones who actually lived in the general vicinity.

Ajay gave an audible sigh. "Oh yeah."

"But thanks Dad," Emily told him.

"Afta everyone leaves. Gives a call if you need somethin'. Take advantage."

"We were thinking about cashing in on all that babysitting," Emily joked.

Cal gave a slight laugh. "Knew that would come back to haunt me. Only when the kid sleeps through the night," he warned.

"Where are my little brothers?" Emily suddenly asked.

"Oh they're grafted to a gamin' device."

"They're coming in, in a second," Gillian corrected. "He's really precious Em," she gushed again.

"And he had the decency of arriving in the middle of the day, not two am, like some otha babies I know," Cal leaned over his wife to brush a finger against the baby's soft cheek.

The door opened and all heads turned. It was Zoe. Cal still couldn't get over how old she seemed. But then again, it had been years upon years since he'd seen her last.

"Hi," she murmured, coming into the room again. She held the door open. "Found some strays," she directed at Cal. Lewis and Owen traipsed in after her.

Owen went straight for his mother. "Can I see?"

"Yeah," Gillian whispered. "But you have to be a bit quieter remember? The baby's not used to so many noises."

"Oh yeah," Owen noted lowering his voice. Lewis came up beside him and Gillian bent a little so they could see into her arms. Not far though, the boys were getting tall; it was more for Owen's benefit. "What's his name?" He tapped his fingers together.

"Ask Emily," Cal suggested, stepping back from the bed to give his daughter some space now the room was filling up. After Lewis was born and everyone started to visit, he had felt claustrophobic, and he was allowed to leave the room. Gillian was trapped in bed.

"Ethan," Emily answered. She finger spelled it for Lewis who nodded. Zoe had moved to the window and leaned beside it. She didn't seem surprised so she must have already been told. Cal caught her eye and gave her a smile. It was still slightly strange.

"Can we have a hold?" Owen asked, blue eyes bright, leaning around his mother to see his big sister.

"Yes of course," Emily answered warmly.

"I want to go first," Lewis spoke up. "I'm the eldest."  
>"And Owen asked first," Cal countered. "Nice try."<p>

"Take a seat Wen," Gillian told him, turning towards the guest chair. Owen sat himself, his legs dangling.

"You have to make sure you keep your arms nice and strong," Cal warned him. Gillian put the baby carefully in his arms and crouched in front of him, making sure the six year old had the two hour old securely. Lewis got in closer to not be left out. "When are they lettin' you outta here?" Cal asked his son-in-law.

"After the second feed," Ajay answered. "They want to make sure the baby gets the hang of it. He had a bit of trouble with the first one."

"Lewis was the same," Gillian noted.

"So was Emily," Zoe added.

"Hee, the baby's all wiggly," Owen noted.

"My turn," Lewis demanded.

"Had enough?" Gillian asked her youngest. Owen nodded so she took the baby back and Owen got up. Lewis took the vacated seat and Gillian handed Ethan over again.

"And when's your Mum gettin' here?" Cal asked Ajay.

"She got on a flight about twenty minutes ago," he looked at his watch.

Cal did a quick calculation in his head. "I can pick her up if you'd like?" Ajay, Emily and Ethan should have left here by then. They'd be settling in at home.

"That would really great Dad thank you," Emily spoke up.


	96. Chapter 96

"Have you got it?" Cal asked as he pushed closed their bedroom door. The boys were asleep, he'd gone to check while Gillian had snuck downstairs to the garage to retrieve a book. A dirty book. A Mills and Boon 'sexy romance'. Which meant women's porn. Whatever. It was supposed to be a bit of fun. For their sex life.

"Yes I've got it," Gillian told him indignantly. She was already in bed, glasses on, waiting for him. She must have _run_ downstairs and back up and yet she didn't seem out of breath. Cal crossed the room and got under the covers. "Are you ready for this?" Gillian asked him with a little smirk.

Cal grinned back. This could quite possibly lead to nothing, but it would be fun to see what it did amount to. She was going to read to him. Aloud. From the soft porn book. They had been married twelve years. Sometimes it was fun to mix it up a bit. "Bring it on," Cal answered her.

Gillian's smile got a little deeper. "If I read one will you read one?"

"Absolutely," Cal agreed.

Gillian turned to the small paperback within her hands. She was able to obscure the cover with just her palm so Cal had no idea what she had picked up that lunchtime when she had ducked out to a second hand book store. Believe it or not, but Gillian did not keep these kinds of books. If she read them, she got rid of them straight away. She said she didn't want the boys to find them but honestly, as far as Cal had known, that had _always_ been her policy. Which warranted a little bit of interesting prying, but not tonight.

Tonight was smut fest volume one.

Cal shifted down the bed so he was comfortable, lying on his side, facing her. He settled the blanket over his waist only. "What are we readin'?"

"Does it matter?" Gillian turned to him again.

"I suppose not," Cal mused. "Go on then," he directed.

"Are you going to watch me?"

"Yes."

"Great," Gillian muttered. She opened the book and started reading aloud.

"Hang on," Cal interrupted.

"What?"

"Are you gonna read the whole thing?"

"Yes?"

"Skip to the good bits."

"You're such a guy," Gillian noted with a sigh and Cal gave her a little smirk. "You don't want to know the story at all?"

"Do these books even have a story?"

"Yes."

"You've read this one haven't you?" Cal suddenly realised.

"Maybe," Gillian mumbled back.

"All right then just tell me the story."

"Well I haven't read it in a while," Gillian opened the page again. "So I'd have to figure out..."

"The quick version," Cal interrupted. "Who's doin' whom?"

Gillian picked up the book again and scanned a few pages. "It's about a marriage of convenience."

"Hm," Cal noted. Boring.

"Mia married Alex to get pregnant with an heir to her father's fortune and Alex agrees to marry her because her father owns his family's Greek island and he wants it back. And the father wants an heir because his son died in a car accident."

"And now, for the dirty bits," Cal waved a hand towards the book again.

"Ok I'll find one," Gillian noted softly, focussing on the book again. Cal watched her eyes scan over the page. They stopped to actually read a few lines here and there but for the most part she flipped through the chapters relatively quickly and he waited patiently. She had a thing for his accent; he had a thing for hers. The way she formed words, the way her mouth moved and her lips shaped, it was fascinating. He could wait for her to read to him so long as she freaking read something.

Gillian kept on turning pages, scanning and turning. Cal turned his head sharply to see the page numbers. Forty five. Bloody hell. Weren't these books supposed to be all about the sex scenes? Where were the sex scenes? "Your impatience won't speed the process up Cal," Gillian reprimanded him lightly.

Cal gave a huff of a sign, turning his head so his breath fluttered across her skin. She flinched a little and he smiled. "You've been teasin' me with this for several days and now it's bloody Friday and I want my soft porn scene," he purposefully grumped.

"Patience is a virtue Cal," Gillian told him lightly. Oh she was good. Using his name a lot. He liked that. He liked the way she said it, with the long drawn out 'a' sound. It made him want to kiss his own name off her tongue. Fifty nine bloody pages in and Gillian finally started to read aloud. Except the scene wasn't as sexy as Cal was expecting. It was relatively graphic but it was missing something and as he watched his wife's face he could see she felt the same way. He blamed the plot. What excitement would there be in the first sexual encounter of a marriage of convenience?

"No," Cal snatched the book from Gillian as the characters climaxed.

Gillian startled. "What?"

"Not this one. This one's not good," Cal told her. Of course the entire book could be a complete dud. He started flipping pages himself and Gillian shifted down the bed so her head was on the pillow and she was face to face with him. He could feel her watching him as he scanned for a key word, anything that would indicate the main characters were about to do it again. Of course, it was kind of difficult to see clearly without his own glasses on but he couldn't be bothered reaching for them yet.

Cal caught something about a breast and slowed down. This seemed better. He shoved the book back towards his wife who looked amused. "There," he informed her, keeping his finger to mark the place at page seventy-seven. "Read that one." And then he curled up again attentively.

"_The whole damned staff must know what had been going on in this bed earlier_," Gillian began again.

"No," Cal interrupted. "Not from there."

"From where then?" Gillian asked shortly.

"All right grumpy," Cal teased. "From the otha page. Right at the bottom. With the kissin'."

Gillian gave a little smile as she readjusted the book.

"I saw that," Cal murmured.

"You're so funny," she half laughed. Cal chose to ignore her taunt. "_Then he did take her, passionately and ruthlessly, his hungry mouth covering hers..."_

Cal pressed a kiss against his wife's shoulder and closed his eyes to listen happily as she went on to describe hands in the darkness and wet, hot kisses...

And then she was waking him up. She watched him, her face close. "Hi sleepy head."

Cal gave a little groan, blinking against the light. "Aw geeze I'm sorry. I didn't realise I was tired."

"Either that or my voice soothed you."

He gave a slight smile and she grinned. "That must be it," he noted.

"Or the story was completely boring?"

"How much did you read?" Cal shifted slightly to see the book but Gillian no longer had it.

"How much do you remember?" Gillian countered with a coy little smile.

"Uh somethin' about '_cries of anguished pleasure echoed around the darkened bedroom'_."

"Oh so the entire bit when they had sex?"

"Yeah," Cal gave a grin. "Then I got bored again."

Gillian gave a little chuckle. "So still not a fan of a 'romance' novel?"

"Guess not. But then again, I had a hard time with the actual storyline. Excuse the pun."

Gillian gave an amused smile. "What didn't you like about the story?"

"It was stupid."

"That was articulate," Gillian cut in.

"No let me finish," Cal reprimanded lightly. "While I undastand misunderstandin's, and that bit was all fine and that, the rest of it wasn't realistic for me. It's like someone wrote it."

Gillian fixed him with an unimpressed expression, "Of course someone wrote it, it's a book."

"That's not what I meant. Hang on. I'll think about it."

"Ok," Gillian said slowly, with a slight frown, a slight amused raise of her eyebrow. She shifted a little, so she was on her stomach, leaning on her elbows, looking over at him.

"It was like there was no real chemistry between the characta's," Cal spoke again. "It felt like I was aware I was readin' a book, instead of bein' sucked into the story."

Gillian's lips twitched into a slight smile. "Hmm well I never said they were literary genius." But she wasn't being defensive, she was agreeing with him. "At least now you know what they're about."

"Are they all that bad?"

"Most of them yeah."

Cal gave his head a slight disparaging shake. "I'm sorry. Perhaps you should switch to movies." He gave her a grin.

Gillian laughed despite herself and shifted a hand to swat at his chest. "No woman _enjoys_ watching some guy fuck the shit out of some poor girl."

Cal laughed.

"Ok? So no. However, if you found me a romantic comedy where the characters actually did it at the end in all their graphic glory, I could probably get into that."

Cal's grin stayed wide. "I shall make that my new life's mission."

Gillian leaned in to give him a kiss. "Sorry to wake you up."

"Oh you are not," Cal grouched good-naturedly.

"I was just wondering if the porn actually did anything for you?"

"Nothin' in the slightest aside from maybe a little twitch before I drifted off. I did enjoy hearin' you say 'big and throbbin', slick and powaful'," he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Did it do somethin' for you?"

"Surprisingly no. But I guess the second time around it just wasn't the same."

"Oh yeah? Did it get a rise out of you the first time?"

"Maybe," Gillian responded mysteriously. She turned on to her back again. Cal shifted so he was leaning on an elbow and could see her face. "It seems to pale in comparison to when we..." she stopped suddenly and met his eye. He knew exactly what she meant without her having to complete the sentence but she looked embarrassed. "Our magic," she finished instead.

Cal gave a smile of pride. "Yeah," he nodded forcefully. "I know exactly what you mean."


	97. Chapter 97

"Just be quiet," Cal said again.

"Can we play?" Owen asked from his bed.

"If you have some rest time then afta, yes you can play quietly," he reiterated. He closed their bedroom door. Both boys were in bed with books. They probably wouldn't sleep but a bit of quiet time would probably do everyone some good. For some reason, there was tension in the house. It had started with Gillian and the toilet and now it had spread to Lewis, who Cal had made help him clean not just the loo but their bathroom too. Him and Owen. But there was a lot of complaining from Lewis, who denied the mess even being his, which was pretty confusing to Cal, because he thought only two of them used that bathroom and he wondered aloud which bathroom Lewis was in fact using.

Cal headed down the hall to where his wife was curled up in bed. She had her eyes closed but she wasn't asleep. She had only just got into bed herself. One of the curtains was closed so the room was less bright and she was still fully dressed. Cal clambered in behind her, curling his body around hers tightly. He leaned over and placed a kiss against her ear. Then settled. "_And so it is. Just like you said it would be_," he murmured melodically.

Gillian gave a little hum and shifted her arm so he was closer still, against her body. "What are you singing?"

"Damien Rice."

"Do I know it?"

"Maybe?"

"It's nice. Keep going."

Cal moved his hand against her stomach and she bent an elbow to place hers over the back of his. "Why are you so grumpy today?"

"I don't know," she responded tightly, the tension still there.

It was Saturday and the weather was nice. They didn't have cabin fever, they couldn't have. Not enough time had gone by for that to occur.

"I woke up on the wrong side of the bed," she grouched. "Ok?"

"Ok," Cal agreed lightly. "Want me to give you some peace? I can read downstairs or somethin'." He started to move away and Gillian quickly turned to grab him by the arm.

"No," she protested. "I need cuddles."

"Need me to squeeze the naughtiness out of you?" Cal murmured, making his wife laugh lightly. He bear hugged her, holding her tightly, almost painfully. "_I can't take my eyes off you_."

"Now what are you singing?" Gillian asked softly.

"Same song luv."

"I like it so far."

Cal grinned, sang that same line a few more times. "_And so it is. Just like you said it should be. We'll both forget the breeze, most of the time. And so it is. The colder water. The blower's daughteeeeeeer_." Cal paused. "_Oooh did I say, that I looooove you?_ I love you."

"You're so laying it on thick today," Gillian retorted. "I love you too."

"You seem like you need some love."

"I do," Gillian groaned.

They lay together, chest to chest, arms wrapped, under the covers. "Phoar," Cal complained. "You're like a furnace." He turned back his hand to grip the edge of the blanket and threw it from his body. Now his front was warmed by his wife and his back was to the cooler air of the room. He pressed another kiss against her forehead. Gillian made a pleased sound. "Is work particularly stressful at the moment?"

"No," she shook her head.

"Shouldn't be. I'm a fantastic boss."

Gillian pinched his stomach and he flinched. "Not my boss," she grouched.

"Partna," Cal corrected.

"That _is_ true. And you are fantastic at that."

Cal fell silent. He was pretty sure he had covered all the bases. She must just be in a funny mood. Those he understood. Sometimes he had those too. Sometimes the boys had them as well. He relaxed against her and closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her.

"Could always have sex," Cal added.

"Thanks for that completely self-less proposition," Gillian responded dryly. Then she giggled. Then she started really laughing and Cal joined her, amused. Gillian pulled away from him and shoved the covers down off her body too.

"You're not supposed to laugh at the idea of gettin' naked with me," Cal murmured.

"I don't know why that was so funny," Gillian breathed.

"Me eitha," Cal mused, more to himself, waiting for her to calm down again. But it had worked and he afforded the ceiling a smile.


	98. Chapter 98

It was Owen's turn for dinner. Which meant fifteen year old Lewis was at the breakfast bar dutifully doing his homework when Cal finished for the day. "Greetin's," he said loudly to announce himself as he came into the kitchen.

"Hi Dad," nine year old Owen greeted. He was grating carrots carefully, watching his fingers.

"How was everyone's last day of the first week back at school?" Cal tossed his keys to the bench by the fruit bowl.

"Good," Owen answered absently.

"Lew?" Cal prompted when he got nothing but silence. Sometimes that was because the teenager hadn't heard him; sometimes it was a convenient excuse to buy a few more seconds of thinking before answering time. Lewis gave a shrug. Cal waited for him to elaborate, which he didn't, then looked around. "Where's Mum?"

"She's getting changed," Owen answered.

"Thank you Owen," Cal said and headed for the door. He rushed upstairs and burst through the bedroom door. He gave it a shove to swing closed behind him.

Gillian turned to him, startled, her hand slipping from the knob of her second drawer. She was half dressed. "No," she started to warn, raising a hand to fend him off, but Cal was already on her, pushing her back into the furniture.

"No what?" Cal growled nipping at her neck, his hands sliding down her back to squeeze her butt. Gillian struck the back of his shoulder blade, because he was using his teeth, and he laughed, turning his head to kiss her properly instead. He kissed her hard and deep and her fingers tightened against him this time, drawing him in closer against her chest. Cal had to break the kiss to catch his breath because it seemed Gillian was not going to give up first. Damn.

"No that," she panted.

"No?" Cal asked surprised, studying her. The silver hair dominated her temples and the fine lines were more frequent, but still fine. Next year she would be sixty.

"No distracting me."

"You're distractin' me," Cal teased, glancing down at her chest. Her breasts were pressed against his sternum.

"That was your fault. I have to supervise dinner."

"I'll do that."

"Which still means you have to go downstairs," she pointed out.

"Damn it," Cal muttered. He gave her another kiss, less intense this time. "Just tryin' to entice you for late-a." He gave her a cheeky grin and let her go. "The teenage-a is on silent treatment again."

"It's not silent treatment," Gillian almost sighed. She had told him this before, many times. "Lewis just processes in a different way." He should know that too. The kid had always been that way, thinking things through before voicing them.

"I asked how his day was and he shrugged at me," Cal noted, sitting on the chest at the end of their bed to undo his shoes.

Gillian finished finding the top she had been looking for when he came in. She pulled it over her head. "He just needs a little time to wind down after school. He always comes around," she told him patiently.

Cal didn't answer her. She was actually right. But Cal didn't like the nonchalant treatment when he got home from work. He enjoyed coming home to his family, he enjoyed seeing his sons; he'd like it if they were pleased to see him too. Gillian approached. Cal left his shoes on the ground and opened his legs so she could stand between them. She slumped against him in an embrace. "We love them no matter what they do remember? No matter how they act."

Oh yeah, then there was that. Cal remembered telling _her_ that.

"It's not personal Cal. Lewis is probably testing you in some way we don't know about. He's fifteen. That's what he's going to do at this age. And then he'll get over it."

Cal nodded against her shoulder.

"You're friends. Remember that too. Not just his Dad but his friend. Don't be too hard on him. Maybe he just had a weird day."

Cal nodded again. Gillian pulled back and planted a kiss on his hairline. She smoothed her fingers over his skin, around the edge of his eyes. She gave him a slight smile. "There's my good boy," she patronised. Cal gave her an amused smile and Gillian pushed away from him to straighten up again. "Just talk to him. Help him with his homework. He often surprises you when you least expect it."

"Full of insightful advice today," Cal noted, getting up as she walked away to finish changing. Cal ditched his suit jacket and shirt to the end of the bed.

"Hey when one of us is acting crazy the other one of us has to act sane. You're usually propping me up."

"Lies," Cal noted. "Absolute lies."

Gillian laughed and told him she'd see him downstairs. Cal found a t-shirt on the pile of clothes slung over the end of the bed and sniffed it. It still smelt clean so he put it on and followed is wife. Owen had finished with his carrots when Cal returned and Gillian was instructing him to turn the oven on and take out the tray. Lewis was still focussed on his book. Cal took a beer from the fridge, offered one to Gill but she shook her head. Cal popped the cap and sat next to his teenager at the breakfast bar. Gillian was probably right. He needed to take a chill pill and regroup. He was acting a bit like a kid in a sandpit who's best friend just found someone new to play with. Lewis had been rather quiet growing up and Cal hadn't taken that personally. And Lewis was starting to grow out of it, there were days when he was bright and friendly. Maybe Gillian was right. Maybe something had happened at school.

"What are you workin' on Lew?" Cal gave him a slight nudge to get his attention, bumping his right 'S' hand over the top of his left 'S' hand.

"Biology," Lewis made two 'B' hands and angled them in front of him while rotating them around in wide circles, front to back.

"Right," Cal nodded. Science. He remembered helping Lewis to work out the rain cycle. Those were the days when the kid doted on his old man. Now this old man was a granddad to a three year old and almost to a granddaughter and his son was growing up. Cal took a swing of his beer. It was shockingly cold and he wasn't quite prepared for it; it startled him for a moment but he managed to cover it up. They went back to silence for a moment.

To be fair. Cal used to take a bit of time to warm up and get used to people too. And when he was processing he was often quiet. He watched Gillian and Owen prepare their evening meal for a moment. When Lewis was asked to set the table he got up straight away. Cal leaned over to the book Lewis was taking notes from to see just what biology in particular he was working on. 'Peripheral Nervous System' was the heading at the top of the page. The brain, Cal concluded. He had flashes to showing Lewis his brain scans, pointing out all the various areas of the brain and what they did. This was exactly what Cal, and Gillian, had studied in the first years of their psychology degrees.

Lewis came back and there was more silence. Cal had just about finished his beer now and was swirling the last mouthful around the bottom. "You like science Lew?" He used 'like' and 'science'.

"It's all right."

"Your Mum studied the brain when she went to college," Cal noted pointing to his head then, moving his hands, open, against each other then up in a short circle. Gillian gave him a glance, hearing her moniker, but Owen was digging around in the pantry for something he couldn't find.

"When she learnt to be a shrink?" Lewis signed 'psychology' then 'agent', which together meant psychologist.

"Yeah. You have to learn how to be a scientist," Cal explained. Scientist was the same 'science' and 'agent.' "So the brain and the nervous system, the endocrine system..."

"What's the endocrine system?"

"Hormones."

"Oh, we're doing that next," Lewis turned to the front of his notebook and showed Cal the schedule the teacher had handed out for the term.

"Cool," Cal noted. It was kind of cool, knowing his son was learning about that. But Gillian was also right, now that some time had gone by, Lewis was much more talkative. Maybe he had had a crappy day. As Cal had told her before, the more relaxed she is with their kids the more relaxed they are with her. Same went for him. "You wanna be a scientist like your Mum when you leave school?"

"I'm going to be a hip hop dancer," Lewis responded dryly, moving two fingers over his left palm, then 'agent'. Gillian heard that too and she looked over sharply, catching her husband's eye.

"Better get dancin' then," Cal noted, reaching over to wrap his fingers around his nearly empty beer bottle. "We can enrol you in dance lessons afta dinna."

"I was kidding," Lewis told him drolly, using 'joke'.

"I know!" Cal responded with a grin. He put an arm around his son's shoulders to knock the teenager against him. He gave him a squeeze and let him go. "You can have that," Cal nudged the rest of the beer towards him and swung his legs away to jump the short distance to the floor. He felt Gillian watching him again. When he looked over at her he could see she was laughing silently, then gave him a beam; an 'I'm proud of you' beam.

Cal raised his hand, his pinky, index and thumb extended while the other two remaining digits were curled down against his palm.

'Me too,' Gillian mouthed back from the sink.


	99. Chapter 99

Cal set his laptop on the dining room table. He pressed the power button and fished the flash drive the doctor had given him from his pocket.

"Are you going to play a game?" Lewis asked, approaching, peeling a banana, twisting a 'Y' hand. His blue eyes were bright with interest.

"No. I'm going to look at some pictures," Cal answered him, moving a 'C' hand shape from his cheek to the held up palm of his left hand. He pulled out a chair to take a seat at the table. This was their 'not as nice' dining room table. The really nice one was in storage in the garage for when Lewis and the yet-to-be-born baby were old enough to treat nice furniture nicely. The holidays was around the corner and Gillian told Cal stories of last Thanksgiving when they'd had everyone over to the new house. They'd brought out the other table and created a big 'L' for everyone to sit at and cooked a feast. They sounded like good stories. Cal wished he remembered them.

"I like pictures," Lewis noted.

"Would you like to have a look?" Cal offered. Lewis nodded so he pulled the four year old onto his leg. On the computer screen the flash-drive opened a folder. There were several tens of files all labelled with a date, going back to May the 12th 2018, to the ones taken two days ago when Cal had gone in for his, what was now a bi-monthly, check up.

"What's this Dad?" Lewis curled up his left hand into a 'wh' hand gesture, while holding on to his banana with the other.

"These are pictures of my brain."

"Your brain?" Lewis turned to him with a slight frown, pointing to his forehead like his father had done.

"Yeah."

"In your head?"

"Yeah, in my head," Cal agreed, double clicking the first image open. He was going for reverse order, which meant they were looking at the scans taken a few days ago.

"How do they take pictures of in your head?"

"They have a special machine that can take photos of inside your body." Lewis looked at him strangely, eyes flickering to his father's hands as he signed. "Like you can get photos of your bones?" Cal went on. "Like that but a little bit different." He indicated the screen and Lewis turned his gaze, biting off a large piece of banana with his mouth. What Cal had had was a functioning MRI scan. It showed what areas of his brain 'lit up' when he was performing different, specific, mental exercises while images were taken of his head. They ranged from focal point thinking, to basic maths, writing, interpreting written and oral language, and hand-to-eye coordination special tasks. A regular MRI showed the structure of a brain. But a functioning MRI showed, like the name suggested, function; how his brain was working, not just where.

"That's you Dad?"

"Yeah that's me," Cal confirmed. The image didn't really look like a brain, more like a kind of oval with darker areas around bone and along the fissure down the centre that separated the two brain hemispheres. Cal hadn't had a look at these kinds of pictures in so long. Since his degree work, he was pretty sure, but then he wasn't sure he could trust his memory anymore. There may have been another reason why he'd looked at a brain scan recently, but if there was, he couldn't recall it. When he'd been in the coma MRI's had been taken while he was unconscious. They had been taken to show the swelling in his brain. Of course he'd also been tested for brain function, to make sure he wasn't brain dead, but those were EEG's and PET scans; passive testing he didn't have to be awake for to really give an amazing result. Not like the fMRI.

"That your brain?"

"Yes," Cal asserted again.

"It's pitty," Lewis noted, signing 'beautiful'. He shoved more banana in his mouth and tried to hand Cal the skin.

"I don't want it," Cal told him with a shake of his head. Lewis leaned forward to put the rubbish on the table. Then he wiped his fingers on the front of his shirt. "You like the colours huh?" Cal asked him of the scan again, bringing his hand to his chin/neck area and fluttering his fingers. The different colours were associated with the amount of activity in a specific area of Cal's mind. An EEG measured electrical activity and was recorded in a wave. But they weren't interesting to a four year old. A PET involved radioactively tagging chemicals in the blood, which would show up on the scan by rushing towards areas of the cerebral cortex where blood flow and metabolic activity was increased, which suggested areas of intense brain function. PET's were going out of style. fMRI's showed a similar response but a magnetic resolution image was so much more detailed.

"There's lots of colours there," Lewis pointed a finger and waved it around in front of the screen before moving the hand to his chin to mimic the sign his father had just used.

"Yeah," Cal agreed, which was a good thing. Compared to the images when he was comatose, which only showed activity in sub-conscious processing, like breathing and registering sounds, these new ones showed all kinds of colours all over the place, in Cal's primary motor cortex, his primary somatosensory cortex, his primary visual cortex, primary auditory cortex and, most importantly, two areas where he processed and understood speech, _Broca's_ and _Wernicke's_ areas. His injury had been to the left side of his head and frontal lobe. That was why Cal had had such a hard time with his hand-to-eye coordination upon waking. And it meant his speech could have been affected, because language comprehension and production was in the left hemisphere of his brain. He had been lucky. It wasn't good, but it could have been so much worse.

Cal showed his son that when he had been handed a piece of silk, the 'touch' centre of his brain had activated, there, at the top of his skull, his primary somatosensory cortex. "And when I saw a picture of you this lit up," Cal showed him the area for visual processing in his occipital lobe.

Lewis looked up at him for a second. "Is your head all better now Dad?" He scooped the air away from his mouth.

"Yeah," Cal told him. "It's all betta."

And it was. Even though the dark sections of the scans showed the areas of Cal's brain that was essentially 'dead' tissue now, there was also a lot of promising evidence that showed his brain had actually rewired itself. The right hemisphere was where non-verbal processing was conducted, spatial reasoning and emotional perception. Even though the prefrontal cortex was an area of memory, there was no definitive reason why Cal had any memory loss and he was still frustrated with being unable to find a reason why. He liked to know the 'why'. He wanted to know why those particular years had been blocked out.

"Where's Mum?" Cal asked Lewis. He had actually brought this home to show her.

"She was upstairs," Lewis noted, pointing to the ceiling.

"Can you go get her for me? Tell her what we're lookin' at." He used 'bring' and 'tell'.

"Ok," Lewis waited until his father had put him on the ground then ran off.

Cal closed the current image and pulled up another, where Rockwell had identified a lesion during one of Cal's early MRI's. It had been removed by a scalpel but it was strange to see it there and then, in the next scan, to see that it had gone, removed with surgical precision, excuse the pun. Cal opened another file that was a picture of his latest brain scan. He shrunk the size of the window so he could have the old scan next to the new one. The 'black hole' of his brain was smaller. He looked again, checking the magnification to make sure it wasn't just an illusion.

"Lewis said you wanted to show me a really amazing picture of inside your head," Gillian said as she approached where Cal was sitting at the table. She leaned down and draped her arms over his shoulders, leaning in so she could see.

"Does the dead tissue seem less in this image?" Cal asked her. This was not something he had gone over with Rockwell that afternoon at his appointment. Rockwell had shown Cal how well his brain was functioning now and which pathways had activated during which tasks, but nothing about the 'black hole'.

"Hm," Gillian noted. She leaned in closer and then was silent for a moment. "Are the magnifications the same?"

"Yep I already checked that."

"It's possible for neurogenesis," Gillian pointed out. She straightened up and walked around him to pull up a chair of her own. When she sat she rested her hands on her belly, where the baby had pushed out.

"I've neva actually seen neurogenesis in action though," Cal noted lightly, amazed. His brain was 'healing' itself. Or at least it was producing new neurons to replace the ones that had been damaged during his accident. When he'd done his degree work, all the way back when, neurogenesis had been unheard of. He wasn't sure that that part of his brain would ever work the way it used to, but neurons, the little cells in his head that transmitted messages to each other and to other systems in his body that made him breathe, eat, talk, run and a whole host of other things, looked as though they were actually regenerating.

"This is your brain injury?" Gillian asked, pointing to the dark section.

"Yeah."

Gillian stared at the screen for a while longer. "It's scary seeing it like that."

"Yeah," Cal agreed again, because it was. And he hadn't been awake to experience it all in real time. To know that this was his head was surreal. "Probably won't get much betta than that though," Cal noted. Because neurogenesis was age limited. The older Cal got the less likely it was that new neurons would be built. He'd take what he could get, obviously.

"So this was your scan from the other day?" Gillian pointed to the right of the screen.

"Yep," Cal confirmed. He closed the old scan and showed her the set of new ones. He told her about the tasks he'd performed while the images were taken and she noted, pleased and impressed, how his brain had reorganised a few of the pathways to compensate for what it had lost. Gillian pointed out all the right processing centres, musing more to herself than Cal and he took that opportunity to watch her. Things had been steadily getting better. Things between them, things with Lewis, things with work, things with life. They were having another baby and Cal was starting to understand just how crazy that really was. It was a freaking one in a million. When he first woke up he didn't understand why he had had a kid with her, or more accurately, why he had agreed to have more children at all. Now that he saw her pregnant and could see her at home with Lewis, it made a lot more sense. A lot.

"You'd make a fascinating case study," Gillian noted, turning to him. Cal was already staring at her but she didn't call him on it.

"Thanks a lot," he retorted. "Was that an insult?"

"No," Gillian smirked at him in response. "I wasn't suggesting you were a freak of science."

Cal chuckled. "That definitely sounded like an insult," he muttered. He reached over and closed the lid of the computer.

"Oh are we finished looking?" Gillian noted lightly.

"Yep. Have to go find your son. He's been quiet too long."

Gillian looked around alarmed. "I thought he followed me back downstairs."

"Nope," Cal got up and pushed the chair back to get out from against the table. He stopped and gave his wife a kiss, pressing it against her hair. She looked up and gave him a smile. "You go relax," Cal told her. "I'll find the munchkin."


	100. Chapter 100

The seat was really big and Owen couldn't touch the ground with his feet. They kind of hung there in the air. He couldn't see very much, except for the seat in front of him which was dark blue and the carpet was grey and the walls were white. They looked like plastic and not like the walls in a house. Mum was on Owen's right side and Lewis was on Owen's left side and Dad was sitting on the other side of Lewis. Owen kicked his feet again. He wanted to get up and look around but there were lots of people all over putting their bags into the little cubby holes above their heads and taking off their jackets and getting pillows. Little mini-pillows that were the size of Owen's head. Not really much room for a big person's head.

Owen already had his belt on and he was bored with waiting. But Mum said that while they were on the aeroplane he had to sit still like a good boy and not get up, or ask her to get up, unless he needed the toilet, because it wasn't ok to just go wandering around the plane to have a look. It wasn't very safe to do that. She said he could maybe have a look at some other places on the plane when after they had landed in the other city and everyone else had left. But she wasn't sure and so he shouldn't get his hopes up. Owen didn't really know what his hopes were or how he apparently 'got them up' but he knew it was one of those funny things adults said that meant he shouldn't get excited and expect it to happen because it might not.

Owen was looking up at the dials and knobs way above his head when he felt Dad's arm against his chest. He looked down to see Dad stretched all the way over, all the way over Lewis, holding out a piece of paper to Mum. She looked surprised too as she looked over at them. Owen wanted to tell her to open it quickly! so he could see what it was. But Dad sometimes told Owen that sometimes he 'did his head in'. Owen didn't really know what that meant exactly but he knew that when Dad said it, it meant that Owen was annoying him, usually from talking too much, or being too excited about something so that it bubbled up inside him and made him bouncy, so Owen didn't say anything this time. He could wait. Like a big boy. He was a big boy.

Mum took the note and opened it. She smiled and turned back to look at Dad. Owen looked at Dad too. Lewis was grinning and so was Dad but they didn't say anything and Owen didn't like not knowing. He didn't like being small and not knowing things big people did. "What does it say Mum?" Owen asked eagerly, bouncing a little in his seat. He wanted to climb up and lean over her arm to see.

"It's for me," Gillian told him, turning the slip of paper away a little, conspiratorial.

Owen pouted, disappointed. "Aw." He made the face that Dad said meant trouble was brewing. Owen didn't know what Dad meant when he said that but he was usually teasing Owen and he didn't like it when Dad made fun. Especially when he was already feeling grumpy inside. Mum gave him the note next anyway, and he read a few words easily that he had learned in school. But he didn't know what they meant.

I CAN HEAR YOU THINKING FROM ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE

It turned out the note wasn't that interesting after all. Then the little TV screen in the back of the seats turned on. Owen let out a little 'ooooh!' but he also had to remember to be quiet because there were a lot of other people around right now. There were a lot of things he had to remember but he had to be good because if he was good then he was going to meet Mickey Mouse. The show that played on the TV was boring too. It was about how the seatbelts went on and how there were yellow masks in the ceiling and lights in the floor but if they did have a crash there were big yellow slides to go down. That would be cool.

"We're moving!" Owen suddenly noted.

"Yeah," Mum confirmed. She placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to his seat. He wanted to see out the windows but they were very small and all the way over there, while he was in the middle of the plane. "We're going to take off soon," Mum told him.

That was exciting too! Owen had never been in a plane. Neither had Lewis. Dad said he had loads of times and Mum said she had too. But Owen's friends at school hadn't so he was going to have a really cool story to tell when he went back to school. Mum said he didn't have to go back to school for ages. That was cool too!

Owen asked Mum where they were going now. He knew they were supposed to fly but the plane was still on the ground. "We're going to the middle of the runway to take off," she told him. But aeroplanes didn't flap their wings like a bird so Owen wondered how that was going to happen. Specially with all the people sitting there and the bags that Dad said would go along the moving belt to behind the wall and then someone would put them on the plane. He said they were below them right now. Planes were very tall up so maybe they had lots of room beneath.

The plane suddenly started moving forward very fast. Faster and faster until it made Owen's tummy feel funny. He looked up at his mother, concerned. She put her arm around him and rubbed his shoulder. "It's ok," she told him and he didn't even have to say he was scared because Mum knew stuff like that. The noise of the engines was so loud Owen wanted to block his ears. Lewis had turned down his aids which Owen thought was pretty cool sometimes when something was very noisy. Lewis let him wear an aid once. It felt funny. And the noise was really weird when Owen listened through it.

Owen felt his own ears get all blocked up and funny and his stomach felt like someone had grabbed it from behind and pulled and then it all eased off again and he felt fine. Mum let him go. "We're in the air now," she told him.

"We're flying?" Owen asked, looking up at her again.

She nodded with a smile. Mum was pretty when she smiled. "Yeah. What do you think?"

"It's like Superman."

**PJ**

"Cal."

"Hm?" He was suddenly aware. Sounds first, birds, people, his wife. Then feelings, his legs and arms and where he was in the bed, and his wife's hand on his shoulder.

"Time to get up honey."

He gave a groan and she moved away but he did open his eyes and start to force himself to wake properly. He could hear her waking the boys in the bed next to theirs. The room was a relative size for a moderate resort, but there was one room, one bath, and that meant Cal and Gillian got one bed and six year old Owen and ten year old Lewis were sharing the other. It meant absolutely zero fooling around. Which was a shame, because whenever he got the chance, Cal liked to christen a new bed. Any excuse for a christening. He was hoping for maybe a quick feel up in the shower or stolen kisses. Those were fun too.

The boys didn't have to get up straight away but Cal did. Firstly, he needed the bathroom. Then he got dressed and helped finish packing the day bag with snacks, hats, sun block, towels, a spare plastic bag, camera, spare batteries, a spare SD card and whatever else Gillian had put out. She had made the bed and was in the shower now. Cal grabbed his phone off the charger and double checked he had everything he wanted for a day at a fun park, especially his wallet and the tickets to get in. Then he nudged the boys again, encouraging them to actually get out of bed this time.

Lewis gave a sigh and straightened up. He was growing his hair longer and the first thing he did was finger comb it into place. Cal hid a grin as he walked around the bed to get to his youngest. Lewis was going to be eleven next week and it appeared he was already turning into a pre-teen. Then the boy picked the sleep out of his eyes and swung his legs to the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed he put his hearing aids in from their case on the bedside table. Then he stood and wandered towards the bathroom. He knocked and Gillian called loudly for him to come in. Owen needed more direct intervention to get up. Cal had to pull back the blankets and sit him up. Then he went to open the curtains and Owen sat there blinking, subdued. Cal could hear Lewis talking to his mother over the shower in the other room.

"Come on Wen," Cal went to his son again and placed a hand on his shoulder, getting him to stand. Get him moving, that would help him wake up. They were going to have to get dressed and then head down to the resort restaurant for breakfast. Sometimes breakfast was a good wake up assistant. Lewis came out of the bathroom and Cal knocked to let Gillian know that Owen was also going to use the toilet.

"Get dressed Lew," Cal directed. The boy went to the wardrobe he was sharing with his brother. "Shorts," Cal added. He had to say it louder to get Lewis's attention. "And t-shirt. It's gonna get warm." He made an 'O' hand by his mouth and moved it up, while opening his fingers, like steam rising. He was in t-shirt and shorts himself in preparation, a rarity. The shorts, not the being prepared part. This was Florida. Lewis dressed and Owen emerged and Cal also helped him get dressed. Gillian was out of the bathroom, wearing tiny denim shorts and a tank top that made Cal do a double take so fast he suspected he strained his neck. They took the day bag and headed down for something to eat.

"Dad are we going to see Mickey?" Owen asked, his eyes bright now. He had scrambled eggs and baked beans on his plate.

"Yes," Cal confirmed.

"And Donald," Owen went on. "And lots of fun rides? Can we get candy floss? And a picture with Mickey?"

Cal started nodding and kept on while he finished his breakfast. He'd gone for scrambled eggs, beans, toast and bacon. It was rare to get a full cooked breakfast. It was not part of Gillian's culture. She was eating toast and fruit. Lewis cereal. Cal exchanged a look with his wife. "Looks like Owen is awake now," she noted. Cal gave a grin and Lewis asked if he was allowed more orange juice.

After they ate they headed for the bus stop and waited with a group of other families who were also headed out to _Disneyworld_. Today they were going to _The_ _Magic Kingdom_. Then one of the water parks and the day after would be _Epcot_. By then Gillian figured the boys and the adults would be exhausted so she planned a day at the resort, by the pool, relaxing and conserving energy. She had also planned for them to go to _Universal Studios_ and then they were relocating to the Atlantic Coast of the Florida peninsula so Lewis could go to Cape Canaveral and Gillian could spend some time at the beach. She had planned most of this holiday on her own.

It was eight thirty in the morning and already hot. Cal was in a sweat and dreading that the day was only going to get warmer. This reminded him of his honeymoon. The heat. And later when they were on the beach and Gillian would be in a bikini, he was looking forward to that too. She had tried it on before they left and that had been a very entertaining little fashion show. Owen leaned against his father as they waited. Cal pushed him away a little and he looked up, curious and a little hurt. "It's hot buddy," Cal told him. "Too hot for lots of leanin' all right? I don't like it much."

"Hug?" Owen asked instead.

"Quick hug," Cal conceded. He bent a little to put his arm around his son's shoulder. He gave him a squeeze and moved him away again. Perhaps he should wear tiny little denim shorts and a tank top. Because Gillian looked happily cool over there with Lewis. The bus arrived and they climbed on. It was luxurious and, thankfully, air conditioned. Owen sat at the window with his father, his nose pressed against the glass to see. He wanted to know where the big castle was and where was Mickey and how long it would take to get there? Cal figured Owen got his chattiness from his mother. Seriously. Of course when they pulled up at _The Magic Kingdom_ the boys were almost hyperactive with excitement and even Cal felt a little thrill. He hadn't been to any of the Disney franchises, except the movies. They queued and had their bag checked and were finally through the gates. They all stopped and stared up at the _Cinderella Castle_ for a moment, struck with the size and beauty and the reality of being at _Disneyworld_.

Gillian opened the map and made suggestions for the first places to visit. It was the start of summer and it would get crowded quickly, so they headed for the rides that were popular and that the queues for would get out of control. They walked all the way to the edge of the park to start with the _Pirates of the Caribbean_, then _Splash Mountain_ and once they were off that ride, straight to the _Big Thunder Mountain Railroad_ next door.

"Oh man!" Lewis enthused as they headed around the one of the lagoon's with _Tom Sawyer's Island_ in the middle. "The bit where we were screaming down and then," he showed with his hand what he meant, then suddenly jerked it to the right. "Errr!" He mimicked the screeching sound of brakes. Owen bounced along beside him as they walked ahead adding his two cents here and there about exciting bits. Gillian took Cal's hand.

At first, standing in line didn't seem like a big deal. Owen swung from the cordon ropes and talked to the kids behind him in the line. He relived the rides he had already been on and Lewis showed him where they had already been on the map. But as they got closer to midday he got more restless. Gillian produced snacks to tide him over one more line for the _Haunted Mansion_ ride and suggested they stop for lunch afterward; they had started their day rather early. The park was huge and there was still so much to cover but she knew her children's limitations and to some extent, so did Cal. He didn't spend as much time with them as she did, but he knew the signs that Owen was fading and he knew that sometimes the kid faded fast. And then it would be impossible to drag him around.

Cal beckoned Lewis to sit with him on the _Haunted Mansion_ ride. Not because he wanted to avoid Owen, all right it was a little of that, but also, they were essentially at _Disneyworld_ for Lewis's birthday. Even though his actual birthday would fall when they got home. And the money for the trip had really come from Gillian's parents. Lewis was the kind of kid who needed something big like this, something extra special. Owen was usually pretty easy to please but Cal felt Lewis just needed a little more.

"Havin' fun?" He asked his nearly eleven year old. Lewis looked up and gave him a smile. He nodded. If Lewis wasn't talking, that was usually an indication of 'not good'. Cal put his arm around his boy. "Me too. I'm lookin' forward to meetin' Mickey."

Lewis gave a shy smile.

"Did you know, when I was a kid, Mickey was drawn in black and white?"

Lewis shook his head.

"It's true," Cal went on. "And movies were silent and we didn't have cars."

Lewis laughed. "Dad."

Cal gave him a grin and the ride suddenly jerked forward. Cal took his arm back and held on to the rail like he was supposed to; had to set a good example. A few days later would be more fun for Lewis because _Epcot_ was aimed at bigger children. _The Magic Kingdom_ was more Owen orientated. And Cal was looking forward to that as well. Anything that brought Lewis out of his shell was a good thing. He was always on the lookout for a formula with Lewis, a sure fire way of getting the kid to talk and interact. He didn't think Lewis was depressed or reserved, but he often hung back and observed and Cal didn't want him to feel like he was slightly on the outside of their family. That wasn't right. But finding some sort of magic solution was so far elusive. Perhaps the point was that he was meant to keep trying. Perhaps there wasn't one thing, merely the fact that Cal made the effort.

They bought hotdogs, hot chips and water from a food outlet and sat in the sun at tables set with candy striped umbrellas. After eating they moved to watch the _Electric Street Parade_ go by and dosed up on sun block. Cal was even stickier with sweat now and grateful for some shade; it felt disgusting rubbing on lotion. The park was crowded now, especially where they were sitting to watch the parade go by so Gillian reminded the boys to stay close to her and Cal. She didn't want them to get lost so it was very important they kept an eye on their parents and on each other. She'd given them this speech before and told them were they should go if they did get lost or separated. After speeches, sun block, refuelling and the parade, they went to stand in line to meet Mickey, which Owen found very exciting. It was a long wait for a few quick seconds of photos. The person in the suit was four feet tall and didn't say a word. Owen was enthralled, almost star struck, while Lewis seemed more warily fascinated.

After that it was _Space Mountain_. Of course now the park had filled it up the line was ridiculously long. Gillian consulted her map again, calculating how many more rides, how much longer they were going to have to stand in line, how long they had left to get around to everything else that wasn't a ride at all but something fun to interact with or just to see. Cal watched her thinking and then he felt small hot hands on his arm. They pulled and jerked Cal to the side. He looked down to find Owen pretending to swing off his arm. "Owen," Cal pulled his hand back.

"I need the pee pee Daddy."

"Use your big words," Gillian told him absently.

"I need to go toilet too," Lewis spoke up, making a 'T' hand shape and shaking it slightly back and forth.

"All right," Cal responded, scanning around for the nearest bathroom. He saw one just across the way. "There's one over there," he pointed.

"We'll go," Lewis volunteered.

Cal hesitated. Gillian looked up from her map. Sometimes he hated when she did this, left him to make the decision. Most of the time they agreed but sometimes it would be good to have a base line. Was it ok to let his ten year old take his six year old to use the toilet on their own? Yes most of the time it was. But in a place as crowded as this with so many strangers around? Uhm.

"Ok but you stick togetha," Cal warned firmly. "Like glue. And you hurry back here straight away. No wanderin' off. And do not leave without the otha."

"Ok Dad," Owen said quickly, scooting easily under the barrier.

"Lew," Cal grabbed his shoulder before he could do the same. "Be the big brutha ok?"

Lewis nodded and followed his brother. Cal watched them walk across the open space to the toilet block and disappear inside. He turned to his wife who had not spoken up in objection. "Wrong decision?" He asked anxiously. Maybe he should go over there.

Gillian focussed her attention from the toilets to him. "It should be fine." But she didn't sound certain. On other occasions she had told him that the boys were growing up and they had to trust them. Cal wondered now if that was more about convincing herself than him.

"Lewis isn't a little kid anymore right?"

"Right," Gillian agreed.

It was just so crowded. And Cal started to regret letting them go. Especially because he couldn't see so well around all the people Just when he was starting to get really antsty and Gillian was checking her watch the boys were back. "You guys moved forward heaps," Lewis noted.

"We thought you'd got lost," Owen added.

Then the sky opened up.

**PJ**

After _Space Mountain_ it was _Buzz Lightyear's Space Rangers Spin_ and the _Astro Orbiter_, then to the _Tomorrowland Speedway_. "I'll race you Dad!" Owen announced as he rushed forward with Lewis to queue in the line for the racing cars.

"Did he mean in the car or to the queue?" Cal asked Gillian as they walked up behind their children.

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "How about in the car? Seeing as he already beat you to the line." Cal gave a chuckle. Gillian checked her watch. "Do you think we should have dinner after this?"

"The boys seem to be holdin' out all right," Cal noted.

"I was thinking more about the fact that it could get crowded at the restaurant later."

Cal considered that. "But we'd have to drag them all the way back down the park again," he indicated over his shoulder. The rest of the rides on their list were at this end.

"That's a good point," Gillian mused. Her feet were already aching from all the walking and standing. It would just be a matter of time before the boys started to complain, once the sugar and adrenaline started to be overwhelmed by the fatigue factor.

"Or," Cal continued. "We could split up. One of us goes to get food. The otha stays with the boys on the rides. We can text to meet up somewhere in the middle."

"Now that is a good idea," Gillian agreed pleased. "So do you want to stay or go?"

"Up to you," Cal offered.

"Dad we're nearly there!" Owen turned to holler as they moved forward a meter.

"Well considering you're the favourite," Gillian went on. "Why don't you stay with the boys and I'll go to get food?"

"Is that so you can pick somethin' with less processed carbohydrates and food dyes? Or so you don't have to suffa through the Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh?"

"Definitely to avoid Pooh," Gillian responded.

Cal laughed again.

"Are you ok? You're red in the face."

"Hm?" Cal asked confused.

Gillian pressed the back of her hand against his cheek. "You feel warm. Are you burnt?"

Cal also pressed his hand against his cheek. His skin didn't feel fiery. "I think I'm just warm. I dosed up pretty well on sun block."

Gillian gave him a smile. "Naw are you just over excited?"

Cal gave another grin. He looked up. The sky was clear and blue again. After the downpour the air had cooled to bearable but Cal's tolerance for heat was pretty low anyway. It wasn't likely to rain again and he had run out of splash rides. He looked at his wife again, exposed skin and happy grin. "And yep. I'm excited."

Gillian laughed and they moved forward to the head of the line. They would have to wait for the next round of races before they were allowed on. One of the park staff approached. "Is everybody over fifty-four inches tall?" He surveyed Owen.

Cal put hand on the boys shoulder while Gillian answered that no he wasn't, he was only forty-three.

"Then he can ride as passenger," the attendant answered. He moved further down the line to talk to other families.

Owen turned to look at his mother aghast. "I don't want to be a passenger. I want to be a driver."

"I'm sorry baby but you're just not tall enough."

"You can ride with me," Lewis offered.

"You're not old enough," Cal noted. Children had to have adult supervision in their cars.

"No I don't want!" Owen protested, looking more agitated, his voice getting louder. "I want to drive my own car!"

Uh oh.

Cal looked at Gillian but she didn't even glance at him before crouching to deal with the potential nuclear meltdown. Lewis turned to stare too and so did the kids behind them. Cal shifted slightly so he was crowding Gillian and blocking the other children.  
>"Owen," Gillian started. She placed her hands on his wrists and looked up at him. "I'm sorry you're not allowed to drive but there is nothing I can do about that."<p>

Owen opened his mouth to give her an angry growl.

"Listen to me," Gillian raised her voice over him but kept her tone even. "You can either ride with me or Dad in a car. Or you can wait over there for us to finish."

Owen glared but he kept his mouth closed. Then he pulled his hands out of her grasp and folded his arms over his chest, his eyes darkening. Gillian waited and Owen either held out for a while and then caved, or was thinking about his decision, but after a while he mumbled something and turned away. Gillian got to her feet again. "What did he say?" Cal asked quietly.

"He said he wanted to think about it," Gillian responded just as softly. Cal watched his youngest son for a moment. He stood still with his gaze down and Cal could tell he was fuming or was upset. He could feel the energy coming off him. But he wasn't going to intervene because that had the potential to just frustrate the kid more. It was better if Owen came back to them of his own accord. And he would, given some time. Lewis kept his distance for a while too, studiously ignoring his brother and that anything was wrong. Then he shifted a little closer and Cal watched as he put an arm around the six year old's shoulders. Owen recoiled from him for a moment, then gave in for a hug.

Cal put his arm around his wife, low, so it was resting in the small of her back. She turned to him and gave him a smile. It was too hot for hugs, but he felt the need to physically connect with her in some way. It grounded him and reminded him how great a wife she was, how great a mother was, how great a team they were.

The previous riders disembarked their vehicles and the park attendant returned to allow the next group on the ride. Gillian asked Owen if he made a decision about what he wanted to do. "I'm not very happy," he told her.

"I know baby but I can't do anything about that right now. Can we work on it after the ride? I'm going to get some dinner and Dad's going to take you on some more rides ok?"

Owen gave a little pout. "I'll ride with _you_," he mumbled again.

"Great!" Gillian enthused. She took his hand and led him towards the car. She let him pick out their colour and climbed in with him. Cal followed Lewis right to the lead car, which was racing red. He slung the day back from his shoulder, feeling the cool shift of air against his sweating back, then climbed into the low vehicle. The cars were on rails so Lewis could only really decide how fast they went but he was in the driver's seat. They both put on their seatbelts and an attendant came to check to make sure they were all ready to go. As soon as they were given the go ahead Lewis put his foot down and the car jumped forward. Cal wondered if he should take this as any indication of what it was going to be like to teach the teenage version of Lewis to drive.

Scary thought.

He lost track of Gillian as they went around the track but afterwards he caught sight of her grinning and Owen was actually smiling. Gillian later admitted she let him lean over and take the wheel. They met up again afterwards and the boys put in their requests for food. Then Cal walked them towards the back right of the park while Gillian headed all the way back down to the main street, which was by the entrance. _The Barnstormer_ was another ride with a height restriction that Owen did not yet meet. Cal wondered if they should have waited a bit longer for the poor kid, to give him a chance to have grown, but to be honest, he had not thought about height restrictions. And it was obvious Gillian hadn't either. Or she would have suggested they wait herself.

Lewis went on the rollercoaster ride by himself while Cal waited with Owen, whose mood seemed to be depreciating quickly again. Cal took him over to a bench to sit. "Ooph," he sighed. "My feet are sore."

Owen didn't say anything.

"Did you know I'm a younga brutha?"

Owen looked up at him sharply. He shook his head. Cal nodded. It wasn't a new story, but one not often told. "It's true. I wasn't allowed to do any of the things my big brutha did eitha." But that was because his mother or father or Thomas wouldn't let him, or at least tried to stop him. It was a prestige thing. Whereas, in this instance, with Owen, it was beyond Cal's control if the boy went on the ride or not. "Yep," Cal mused. "I know what it's like to be smalla."

"It's pretty stink," Owen scuffed a toe against the paving stone.

"Can be," Cal agreed and left it at that. "Means you don't feel very good inside huh?" He looked down at his blond haired son. Owen shook his head pitifully. "Yeah," Cal agreed with sympathy. He gave the boy's shoulder a squeeze.

"It looks like so much fun," he looked up wistfully to the rollercoaster train racing along its track.

"It does," Cal agreed. It actually looked like one of the fun rides he probably would have enjoyed. They were whittling their way down to the smaller children rides now. _Dumbo_ (which they had laughed about, remembering many years ago the kid at school who had teased Lewis for having funny ears), _Winnie the Pooth_, the _Mad Hatter's Tea Party_ (which was one Gillian actually wanted to go on), _Snow White_ and _Peter Pan_. They were running out of time too though, it was getting progressively later and they still had to get the boys home to bed. Owen would fade. Dinner would tide him over for a while, but still, eventually he was going to fade.

"You know the good thing about bein' small?" Cal went on, a thought suddenly occurring to him. If Owen got tired there was a chance he would be carried back to the resort. Which meant piggy back rides from his Dad. Which Cal would refuse to do if the boy was bigger. Here was the hook.

"What?" Owen asked.

"Piggy back rides."

Owen's face brightened up.

"I can't really carry Lewis around for long anymore," Cal went on.

"Will you have me one?" Owen asked eagerly.

"Maybe late-a?" Cal counter-offered. "When you get really tired and your legs fall off. I'll make sure you still get to go on all the rest of the rides." He leaned down to give Owen a nudge with his shoulder.

Owen smiled. "Cool."

Cal's phone chimed. He dug it out of his pocket. It was from Gillian. She reckoned she was going to be twenty minutes. Cal figured they might get through the _Dumbo_ ride in that amount of time before they met up again. Once Lewis finished with his rollercoaster, which he gushed about, much to Owen's chagrin, Cal put them both on the two-seater _Dumbo_ ride. He text his wife back again.

**WEN NOT HAPPY BUT 2 HIS CREDIT HOLDIN IT 2GETHER**

Cal sent the message and waved as the boys went past where he was leaning on the fence, the backpack at his feet to let his back cool again. He was going to have a cold shower when they got back to their room. Freezing cold.

**2ND IN LINE. WEN IS A CHAMP. TAKES AFTER HIS DAD**

Cal smiled and hit reply as the ride started to wind down.

**WAS THINKING REWARDS 4 BOTH OF THEM BEIN SO GOOD 2DAY. WHAT U THINK?**

Owen waved as he went by again and Cal raised his hand enthusiastically.

**SURE. GETITNG FOOD. MEET U AT CASTLE**

Cal sent a quick 'yep' of acknowledgement and straightened up, pushing his phone back into his pocket. And his feet were hot. He was on the verge of doing more complaining than the boys. They were all smiles as they came off of Lewis's ride. Cal told them Mum was getting dinner and they had to meet her at _Cinderella's Castle_ in the middle. Dinner consisted of burger packs in convenient cardboard carry boxes, with soft drinks and a ton of ice and little packs of fries. Cal probably could have done with two but Gillian said something in a quick murmur about dessert and so he figured he could pig out on a cold ice treat shortly. After they ate they sat for a moment, pouring over the map and debating what was a priority of what was left to see.

"Look Mum it's Goofy!" Owen suddenly pointed.

"Quick," Cal got the camera out of the pack. "Get a photo." He handed it to Gillian, who gave him a slightly disparaging expression as she got up to go over to the larger than life character and get a photo of her boys with him. They had seen Mickey and a gazillion other characters over the course of the day, wandering around. The boys had had photos with everyone. Cal wondered if they had actually found everyone now. And he looked at the map again. Really, what was the point in going all the way to Florida if they weren't going to go on _every_ ride and go to _every_ show and meet _every_ character they could find? If they headed up that way first and did those four rides, then back down for the _Wishes Night Time Spectacular _(which was a massive fireworks display), then headed over there for the last two... Cal calculated the timing in his head. They also had a shuttle to get back to the resort to factor in...

**PJ**

"Nearly there buddy," Cal murmured to the six year old on his back, whose head was hung over his father's shoulder. The grip around his neck was practically non-existent at this point and he was pretty sure Owen was just about asleep. Every so often he'd perk up to recount a particular ride or how cool the _Swiss Family Robinson Tree House_ had been, from which he'd taken a lot of inspiration for his own tree hut he was going to go home and promptly build. Lewis was traipsing behind with Gillian, snail's pace. To be fair, they were all on a snail's pace, exhausted and sore and hot.

Gillian unlocked the resort door and they piled inside. She left it open for some of the cooler night air. Cal directed Lewis straight to teeth. He put Owen down on the bed. The kid just sat there. Gillian started to undress him and Cal went to get his toothbrush. Lewis's eyes were red as he stood in the mirror but he was still alert. Cal gave Owen the brush and he dutifully moved it around his mouth while his mother pulled off shoes and socks, then made him stand to undress. Cal closed the curtains and kicked off his own shoes but didn't want to sit down until he couldn't move again. He'd be in agony otherwise.

When Owen was in his undies Gillian sent him to rinse out his mouth. Lewis undressed for bed too and climbed in. Cal approached for goodnight hugs. Lewis's skin was cool. He gave his Dad a kiss. "I had such a cool time today Dad," he told him.

"That's good," Cal gave him a smile.

Gillian said goodnight while Cal went to get Owen, guiding him to bed. Lewis told her he had an awesome time too while Cal tucked Owen in, giving him a quick wordless kiss. Then he went to the shower. He was seriously dying, hot and gross. He set the water fairly mild and turned it down further once he was in. When he felt his core temperature had come down he got out again. The boys were asleep already and the door was still open. Cal awkwardly slipped on some underwear around his towel, in the relative darkness, and then a clean pair of shorts. He found Gillian outside, sitting on one of the chairs that belonged to their room. She looked up at Cal as he came out and gave him a smile. She also looked incredibly tired. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," Cal murmured. "But exhausted. Dead on my feet."

"Me too."

"Boys are asleep," he went on. "Let's go." He held out his hand and she reached for it, letting him pull her up and take her to bed.


	101. Chapter 101

Dad was a pretty cool Dad. Not many other Dads would actually go on all the rides at Disneyworld _and_ Universal Studios. Not many Dads would spend hours playing at the water park and again today in the pool by their room at the resort. Dad was pretty impressive, Lewis thought, because he always seemed to have lots of energy. Owen tired out easily and sometimes Mum went to have a nap. Well Owen was still only little and sometimes Mum got distracted with things. But Dad always played with Lewis and he always talked to him, even if he was busy. That was nice. Not many Dads did that. Lewis knew because his friend Hector's Dad had died when he was fighting in a war, so he didn't even have a Dad, and his other friend Kesia's Dad yelled at them lots to be quiet when he was working if Lewis was over at her house.

Dad hardly never yelled.

Dad was also really cool because he showed Lewis lots of things, cool things, and told him about things that Lewis would then learn about at school after but he would already know cos his Dad had told him. It made him look cool to the other kids and that was pretty all right in Lewis's book. Dad told him it was because he was smart but Lewis reckoned it was because Dad was smart. He was really smart, Mum told him too. Dad had his own business with heaps of cool computers and the big glass cube with all the cameras and he had written books.

Owen jumped from the side of the pool and Lewis turned his head away so the splash wouldn't get in his eyes. Owen was small so his splash wasn't very impressive. Owen tried real hard at stuff, even when he wasn't very good at something. When Owen surfaced he wiped the water from his eyes. Dad swam closer to him cos Dad could touch the bottom of the pool and neither Lewis or Owen could. Lewis swam closer too so he could hear in case they started talking. It was harder to hear without his aids on and he couldn't wear them in the water. The pool was extra tricky because there were lots of other kids in the background yelling and laughing and also the water made noises as it lapped against the edge of the pool or when someone splashed.

Owen started laughing. "Look!" He pointed to his swimming shorts. There was a big air pocket trapped, making them float in a bubble by his belly button.

Dad grabbed Owen under his arms so he didn't have to tread water. Lewis could tread water really well because he was bigger. Sometimes being bigger was really cool, like when he was allowed on rides that Owen wasn't allowed on. But sometimes it wasn't very cool because Dad could throw Owen across the pool really far but not Lewis as far because he was heavier. And Lewis didn't get as many piggy back rides anymore because Dad said he was getting too big.

Dad started to slowly walk them backwards to the shallower end of the pool. "And what makes your shorts float like that?" He asked, moving his hands in the signs so Lewis would understand in case he missed a word.

Owen looked like he didn't know the answer so Lewis waited for him to give up. Cal turned to him. "Do you know?"

"Air," Lewis answered, finger spelling the word rapidly. There was no sign for air.

"Yeah," Dad gave him a pleased smile. "Very good."

"It's a fart!" Owen announced, giggling again, moving his right hand beneath his left like he was releasing a valve to let out air. "Farts smell extra worse in the bath!" He used the 'stink' version of smell. Lewis laughed to that too and Dad chuckled. The arrived at a shallower section of the pool and Lewis could reach the bottom. Owen stood on Dad's thigh though while Dad crouched in the water so it still came up to his neck. "Dad are you allowed to fart in the pool?" He made flat hands and put them in front of his body with the palms facing each other and his fingers pointing towards his father. He moved them from flat to slightly angled up.

Dad laughed again, making the lines around his eyes all fold in on themselves. Mum told Lewis he had his Dad's eyes but Lewis had looked in the mirror once and he couldn't see the same kinds of lines. Lewis waited to see what Dad would say to his little brother's question. Lewis figured farting in the pool didn't really do much, like when they farted in the bath. Nothing really happened then. He knew he wasn't supposed to pee in the pool. That was yucky cos people could drink it in. But it wasn't possible to drink a fart was it?

"I don't think there's a rule that says you're not," Dad answered. "But it'd be pretty yuck to swim in otha people's farts don't you think?" He shook his head as he signed 'rule'. Then used 'disgusted', 'fart', 'swim', pointed to Owen and added 'think'.

Owen laughed again and Lewis watched his Dad's hands while he talked.

"Can you swim in farts Dad?"

Dad looked at him. "Well. Technically you can't, because a fart is gas right? Not liquid." He didn't know what the sign for the scientific version of gas was. He knew how to sign gas as in fart, or gas as in petrol... "But they can linga around on top of the wart-a and some poor sorry sod could swim right into that couldn't they?" He made a grab for Owen who squealed and fell from his perch. Owen splashed around trying to right himself again.

"Can farts become liquid?" Lewis asked next.

"That's a good question," Dad noted. "Liquid farts."

Lewis laughed. "You could have a fart water gun!" He cocked his finger in mimic of a gun.

Dad chuckled again. Owen grabbed his arm to stand on his thigh again. Dad told him off for pinching his skin. Owen quickly apologised and tried to balance without holding on. Lewis saw Mum walking towards the pool. She gave him a smile and a wave and he raised his arm to wave back. Dad turned to look up at Mum too. Owen fell backwards and dunked himself under the water.

Mum signed 'eat' and 'midday' and Lewis figured she had said something about lunch. Then she said something else while signing 'hungry' and pointed to them in the water.

"All right lunchtime," Dad decided. Lewis realised he _was_ hungry. Starving in fact! He started swimming towards the edge of the pool, kicking out with his feet and pulling forward with his arms. Dad caught up to him easily by wading. He swung Owen up to the side of the pool, onto his feet, where Mum wrapped him in a towel.

"Lift me Dad?" Lewis asked him, raising both his hands, palms up.

"Sure buddy," Dad agreed, turning towards him. Dad had tattoos; there was one right in the middle of his chest over his heart. That also made him really cool and it was fascinating how the water ran off the ink on Dad's skin. Or under his skin. Dad said the ink was under his skin so it would stay there forever. Dad reached for Lewis under the arms and told him to jump on three. Then he counted to three, right by Lewis's ear and he heard really well. Lewis pushed off from the bottom of the pool and Dad lifted him. Lewis didn't quite make it like Owen had, so had to bend his knees and guide himself but his Dad never let him go until he was ready.

Mum threw Lewis a towel and he wiped his face, suddenly noticing he was also cold and tired as well as being really hungry. He wondered what was for lunch. Something yummy. The resort restaurant had lots of yummy food. He and Owen were going to try everything on the menu. But they didn't have very long left to do it. They were leaving soon.

When Mum started to walk away with Owen, she called something over her shoulder that sounded a bit like 'come on' which was logical to Lewis. But she said something else that he didn't catch and couldn't work out because she didn't sign; her hands were on Owen's shoulders. Lewis turned to Dad to see if she was talking to him but he wasn't listening. Lewis quickly wiped his arms. Then he felt someone pulling his towel. It was Dad. He had his own towel wrapped around his waist. He took Lewis's towel and wrapped it around his body, under his arms, like Dad's, but starting higher up because he was smaller than Dad. Then Dad put his hand on Lewis's shoulder so Lewis would look up at him. He signed 'home' which Lewis actually knew really meant their room and Lewis started to walk off in the right direction.

**PJ**

Mum went to the cafe over at the main building and brought back sandwiches and hot chips and sodas. Lewis was sitting next to Owen at one end of the table and Mum was sitting on Dad's knees at the other end, feeding him chips while they talked, because for some reason there were only three chairs and there were four of them. Lewis ate his lunch, trying to remember to chew properly so it didn't hurt going down his throat, even though he was starving! Owen opened up his sandwich to see what was inside. Lewis had chicken and Owen had beef.

"I don't like this," Owen said, shaking his head. Lewis could see in his brother's sandwich. There was lettuce and tomato and cheese and some sort of red sauce stuff. Owen pointed to the red stuff. "This stuff. I don't like it," he repeated.

Lewis leaned over to tear away a section of the white bread with the red stuff on it. "I'll try it," he offered, making an 'S' hand and pushing it out away from him while turning it as well. The sauce was sweet but was all right. Owen watched him carefully and Lewis gave a shrug to say he didn't mind. Owen put the sandwich back together and Lewis put his chicken sandwiches on his brother's plate while Owen leaned over to put his beef ones on Lewis's plate. Lewis looked over at his parents to see if they were going to object to the swap but Mum had her forehead pressed against Dads and was talking to him, Lewis could see her mouth moving but he couldn't hear the words. She must be whispering.

"Is it better?" Lewis asked his brother, scooping air away from his mouth.

Owen nodded enthusiastically, his mouth full and his blonde hair starting to dry, sticking up in the back. He moved flat fingers from his chin out wards towards Lewis and Lewis gave a nod of acknowledgement. Mum laughed and Lewis looked over again at them. Dad was grinning and Mum gave him a kiss. Lewis watched Dad's hand drift lower down her spine. She kissed him again and Lewis focussed back on his lunch. They were always like that. And it was not interesting.

After a while Lewis noticed Owen wasn't really eating much anymore. He was kind of just sitting there chewing absently. "Have you finished?" He asked, waving 'five' hands back and forth from his wrist. He was eyeing up the left over sandwich, hoping to get it back.

Owen nodded. If Owen got quiet it meant he was tired. He sat back slumped in his chair. Lewis finished his lunch. Mum got up and came over. "Are you tired wee man?" She brushed her hand through the hair at Owen's forehead.

Owen nodded.

"How about having a nap?"

"No," Owen protested. "No sleeping."

"If you have a sleep you can come back out with us," Dad noted.

"No," Owen said again.

"Come on," Mum encouraged. She pushed Owen by the shoulder to get him to sit forward. "Just a little one. While your lunch settles. Dad and Lewis won't go back out."

"Yeah," Lewis spoke up, he moved his hands to the side, palms up and apart, and wiggled his fingers. "We'll wait for you." He wouldn't be allowed to swim right after eating anyway.

"That's kind of you Lewis," Mum noted and Lewis felt his chest swirl with pleasure.

"I'm not sleepy though," Owen protested.

Mum got him to stand. "Come and lie with me for a bit on the bed then. Just until your lunch settles and then you can go back swimming."

But Lewis knew that if Owen lay down then he was going to fall asleep. For at least a few hours. And that meant he might get Dad to himself for a while. Or Mum. Or both. That would be cool.

**PJ**

They _all_ piled on the bed in the end. Owen feared he would be left out so Cal volunteered to read to them. Even Gillian liked to cuddle up and hear his voice. Of course he wasn't reading soft porn aloud but Harry Potter. The boys loved it. Well Lewis loved it a lot and Owen probably slept through more of it even though he denied drifting off most of the time. The next day he'd ask Lewis what happened so he was all caught up. Which is what happened on this occasion as well, and once he was out, Cal read on until the end of the chapter and Gillian was envious of the fact that he had one boy on either side of him; she wanted to cuddle up herself.

She was not getting enough time with her husband.

They'd done _Disneyworld_ one day, _Epcot_ and a water park the next, as well as _Universal_ _Studios_ and she was pretty much exhausted at this point. Hence the day off. But so was Cal, because he often picked himself up to play with their kids even when he was running on empty. Which meant when they got into bed at night he was practically unconscious until she woke him up in the morning again. At least today they got to relax a bit. After lunch she planned on lying by the pool and reading; or probably falling asleep herself.

Tomorrow they were renting a car and driving across the peninsula to the east coast, to Cocoa Beach, where Gillian had organised for them to also rent a condo for two nights. Lewis wanted to go up to Cape Canaveral and see where the NASA space rockets had taken off from and Gillian wanted to spend at least one day on the beach with the sand in her toes.

"Harry said, and is anyone still awake?"

Gillian lifted her head from the pillow. That was not a line from the book. Cal was looking over at her. He gave her a smile. "Oh hi."

"Hi," Gillian whispered back.

"You're still awake then?"

"Yes."

"And the munchkin is also out?"

Gillian looked over at Lewis. His eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open. His wet hair was drying in curls that reminded her of when he was just a baby. He was such a beautiful wee man. He took after his father. So much. And he looked up to him so much too. It was so amazing to see. "Looks like it," she murmured.

Cal sat up slowly and carefully, nudging Lewis away while Gillian shifted Owen from his father's shoulder and to the pillow. When he was clear Cal scooted to the end of the bed and stood. Gillian watched both her boys for a second. She felt her husband suddenly behind her, then his arms around her. He pressed a kiss into the curve of her bare shoulder. She brought a hand to his cheek; it was rough with several days of growth. "Beautiful," Cal murmured.

"They are," Gillian agreed. She turned to put her arms around him, pressing a kiss of her own against his temple. "You still smell like chlorine."

"Looks like part two of pool day is gonna have to take a brief hiatus," Cal noted. He swayed them back and forth for a few times, then stepped back abruptly. "Come and have a showa with me. You smell like sun block." He turned up his nose at her as if it were truly disgusting and took her hand, tugging her behind him.

"Wait," Gillian stalled. "You get in, I'm going to close this door." She meant the door to their room. And lock it. If her kids were asleep and she wasn't in the room then she didn't feel overly comfortable with leaving the external door open. As she reached the other side of the room Gillian could hear the water come on in the bathroom.

**PJ**

With the boys napping there really weren't a lot of options for the adults. TV would be noisy. They couldn't leave the room. Gillian had forgotten to pack books for themselves (so there were only trashy magazines floating around the resort or perhaps a newspaper). Laptops had been forbidden. So that left cuddling in bed. Which really wasn't such a difficult conclusion to come to. Especially when they had been on duty for four days straight now. Nor was it such a chore.

Gillian waited for Cal to get situated on the mattress, then snuggled up next to him, her head resting on his shoulder rather than the pillow; a familiar and favourite place to be. She traced a finger over the tattoo of the promise on his chest, thinking that he had more than lived up to it. Her beautiful husband.

"Kisses," Cal murmured suddenly. Gillian eagerly levered herself up so she could reach. Kisses. That's exactly what she wanted right now. How did he know?

"But," Cal stopped her with a hand. "You have to be quiet."

"Me?" Gillian responded sharply, but softly. "You," she warned.

Cal gave a slight grin and lifted his chin towards her a little, encouraging. Gillian lowered her mouth to his. His skin was cool from the shower but his mouth was hot and it felt like a relief, to be able to kiss him, which was strange, because she kissed him all the time.

"Gill," Cal pushed her back a little.

"What?" She asked, noting she was a little breathless even then.

"You have to be quiet," he just about whispered.

"I am," she countered.

"You just moaned," Cal told her gently.

"I didn't," Gillian started to protest but she could see in his eyes that she must have. He wasn't teasing. "Sorry," she murmured and kissed him again. She felt the warmth of him shiver along her skin, as if her body had been asleep until now. How is it that she missed him so much? Even when they spent every night together. Every night.

"Gill," Cal pulled her away again. His blue eyes were a soft grey in the light as he looked up at her. "Seriously."

Gillian didn't even argue this time. "Sorry," she told him again, sincerely. She hadn't noticed she was doing it! She patted his collar bone and met his mouth, delving deeper this time, feeling bolder. Cal's warm hand pressed into the small of her back and this time when the moan escaped Gillian's throat she was absolutely aware she had done it. It was still involuntary but she did notice. She pulled away from her husband with a little disgruntled groan and rolled to her back, lying on her own pillow this time, her breath accentuated in the quiet room. So was her husband's.

"Mh well that was fun while it lasted," he noted.

Gillian sat up again. She looked over at her sons. They hadn't even moved. She hoped that sleeping during the day wasn't going to keep them awake that night. They had another busy day planned for tomorrow. "Come with me," Gillian took Cal's larger hand and pulled. He followed her bemused and then protested when they got back to the bathroom.

"We just had a showa."

"Not a shower," Gillian told him, pushing the door closed as softly as she could. She locked it and turned back to see Cal's surprised expression. He gave a half smile and asked her what she was doing and when she pulled him closer, dropped to her knees and pushed down his shorts he certainly got the picture.

**PJ**

Cal woke the next morning and found a small body against him. He went to turn over but found another one behind him. He opened his eyes, confused, trying to ascertain exactly what the hell... he found Owen curled up against his stomach and Lewis at his back. And Gillian... she was over there, in the boys' bed. She must have snuck out sometime after it had got crowded. Smart. Because now Cal was sandwiched and he realised it was the six year old that had woken him, by jamming a heel backwards into his thigh. It was still mostly dark though. Cal scooted to the end of the bed like he had done during nap time and stood. He was a little unsteady and had to hang on to the mattress to keep his balance until his brain woke up more to get his motor functions firing. He staggered over to the bed his wife was in, the bed his boys were supposed to be sharing.

Little blighters.

Gillian was curled up on one side so it was easy for Cal to crawl across the mattress to her back and settle nice and close. She startled a little as he wrapped an arm around her but she must have quickly deduced it was him because she swiftly relaxed against him. "Didn't think you could commandeer this nice child free bed for long did you?" Cal murmured, closing his eyes again. The room had that light grey tinge to it that denoted the sun coming up early in the morning.

"Hm," Gillian responded quietly.

Cal shifted so his nose was in the back of her hair. She'd had it cut short again for the summer and he liked it that way. "What time did the giblets come ova?"

"Was dark," Gillian muttered.

As much as Cal loved them, sharing a room was starting to wear thin. He needed his own space. And he needed some space with his wife. Thank god the condo they were heading to had separate bedrooms. "Sex," Cal announced, feeling the tug of sleep quickly again. Good. He needed more sleep too. And he might get in a few more hours before the sun was really up and Gillian decided it was time to get moving. "Tonight."

"Deal," Gillian muttered and turned over within his arm to hug him.


	102. Chapter 102

Phoar Gillian had a smoking hot body. Cal watched her lying in the sun, her tan well established after nearly a week in the Florida heat. Even Cal had to admit he had a bit of a tan considering... but not like Gillian. She was golden and beautiful and her bikini was the perfect complement to her skin, which glistened from sun block and sweat. Oh god he was imagining dirty things. And he should not. Definitely not. They were in public.

They had arrived just after lunch, settled in, put on a load of washing and walked the few blocks to the beach. Tomorrow they'd be out to the Cape to see all the NASA things and probably more beach time. Then home again the day after. Just like that, and family holiday time was over.

"I can feel you watching me," Gillian suddenly spoke. She had her eyes closed, her face turned to the sun and Cal was thinking she might have fallen asleep.

"You can _not_," he retorted.

"Can," Gillian responded simply.

Cal shifted closer to where she was lying and she put up a hand to fend him off. Like her measly little hand was going to stop him from leaning in for a kiss. She smelt like vanilla, which was better than the stuff she slathered all over their kids. The vanilla stuff was some sort of tanning lotion or something and it had a lower SPF rating than the one for the boys and it smelt delicious. It made him want to nibble at her neck. Except it tasted disgusting, which kind of ruined the fun.

Gillian gave a little hmm. Her skin was scorching hot when Cal pressed against it. "How have you not witha-ed away in the heat?" He murmured against her ear. He hated that it was so hot. It was uncomfortably hot and the shade of the large beach umbrella that he had completely commandeered was not helping. Not one bit.

"Years of practice," Gillian responded. She had still not opened her eyes and the hand against his chest had eased off so it was merely resting there. "Are you keeping an eye on our kids?" She added sharply.

"Of course I am," Cal retorted. But he still turned his head to look and for a second was panicked. Where were they? He searched out the sun-bleached hair of his six year old and the darker but still light brown. Oh they were over there. They were harder to spot with sun hats on. He had merely misplaced them. Phew.

"Uh huh, and what are they doing?"

"Buildin' a sand castle," Cal answered easily.

Gillian went quiet but her hand suddenly started stroking against his chest. Cal leaned in closer for more soft kisses along the edge of her jaw. She sighed heavily. "Don't," she requested meekly. "I want you so badly right now," she told him in a low tone.

"Tonight," Cal reminded her.

"Kay," she whispered back.

But she still didn't open her eyes and Cal kept his gaze focussed on her throat and skin. He pressed a kiss against her pulse and felt it pounding strong and steady. Actually he should really not let this go too far otherwise he'd have to dig himself a massive hole in the sand to hide in.

Good lord.

He rolled away from her with a groan. The sun was hot, she was hot, Cal was hot. Too hot. "I'm gonna go have a cold showa," Cal announced, spying the showers at the top of the beach that were there to wash the sand off before people headed back into town, back to their condos, back to their hotels. He shifted to his knees.

"What?" Gillian's eyes flew open and she sat up a little. And she looked, damn her, she looked at his groin.

"Not because of that," Cal told her off, getting to his feet. It was partly because of that. "It's hot," he complained.

Gillian looked a little bashful and tried to hide it by searching in the beach bag. She produced her phone and checked the time. It was well after midday now, the worst of the heat of the sun. Hopefully, it would rain soon and cool things down again. Cal had started to get used to it, to look forward to it, but he couldn't see a black cloud in sight. Not any freaking cloud.

"We should head back soon," Gillian noted.

"Yeah," Cal agreed. Because, oh yeah, he was starting to get hungry. And if he was starting to feel _hungry_ pretty soon they were going to have two _starving_ boys on their hands.

**PJ**

When Owen woke up the room was still dark and he was confused. He sat up but Lewis was still in bed and there was a light under the door. The one that went back out to the living room. Owen looked at the clock between his bed and his brother's bed but the letters were fuzzy and he couldn't make them out. But it had to be still night time because it was dark and the light was on. Mum and Dad must still be awake. Mum said she would turn the light out when she went to bed and then he would know if he woke up and it was dark if he was allowed to get up or not. But what if the light was on and he was awake, was he allowed to get up then? He wasn't sure.

Owen kicked away the covers and slid to the floor. The carpet was so soft against his bare feet. He snuck across it to his big brother's bed and climbed up. He had to crawl across the mattress the bed was so big! Lewis was sleeping because when Owen shook him by the shoulder it took him a while to respond. "What?" He asked sleepily.

"I woke up," Owen said, leaning in to speak closer to his face.

"So go back to sleep," Lewis suggested.

Owen felt this brother's arm move and figured he had signed something but Owen couldn't see in the dark. "I can't."

"Try."

"I want to go to the toilet."

"You can go," Lewis told him.

"Will you come with me?" It was dark. And he didn't know the way.

Lewis gave a sigh but he sat up and already Owen felt better. They both climbed off the bed and Lewis took Owen's wrist and guided him around the bed. Lewis could see in the dark. It was probably because his ears didn't work so good. That was Lewis's super power. Like how Daredevil was blind but could hear super well. Owen wished he had a super power too. That would be special.

The bathroom floor was cold compared to the carpet! Owen sort of hopped over it to the toilet. It was easier to see in this room because there was no curtain on the window and there was lots of lights in the middle of the city. Not like at home. Lewis waited while Owen lifted both the seats and went pee pee.

"Should I flush it?" Owen hissed at his brother. He knew better than to whisper. Lewis didn't hear whispers.

"I don't know," Lewis answered.

"What if it's noisy?"

"Then no."

Owen lowered both the lids again, letting them drop the last inch. They made a sound that made him cringe. He quick-stepped it to the sink to wash his hands quickly. Dad was telling him all the time to be more careful and more quiet. But no one came in to tell him off for that bang though. When Owen had finished his hands he wiped them down the front of his pyjama shirt which was really just a t-shirt, and went to Lewis who was looking out the window. Owen had to stand on tip toes to see. But there wasn't much to see after all. The building across from theirs and the streetlights. Owen could hear cars. Why weren't those people in bed! It was very late. It must be. Owen looked up but couldn't see any stars or the moon.

"Let's go back to bed," Lewis told him, taking him by the shoulder this time. His brother's hand made Owen feel better as they went back to the dark and strange bedroom. It was less scary knowing he wasn't alone. Lewis pushed him back to his bed and went back to his own. They climbed under the covers and lay down.

"Good night," Owen offered.

"Good night," Lewis told him and went quiet.

Owen listened to the sound of his own breathing for a while and then when that went soft again he tried to listen for Lewis's. But it was quiet aside from the rushing sound of cars on the road, like the waves on the sand. And then Owen heard voices. It sounded like Dad with his deep voice and Mum giggling. So they _were_ awake. Owen sat up again and looked over at Lewis, who had his back to him and was still. He'd probably gone back to sleep. He did that.

Owen threw back the cover again and slid to the extra soft carpet. He wiggled his toes against it for a second then straightened up. He padded to the door and turned the handle carefully so it wouldn't make a noise. Then he cracked it open a little bit. The light from the living room cut into his eyes which had adjusted to the dark. He pulled the door open a little bit more and he could hear better. His Dad was mumbling something and his Mum groaned in return. They were definitely still awake then.

Owen pulled the door open a bit more, so he could see. They were on the couch. Mum was sitting in Dad's lap and she had no shirt on. Just her underwear. She was holding onto Dad's shoulders and Owen could see that Dad had one hand in the front of her shorts and the other was squeezing her bum! He was looking up at Mum, his eyes shiny and was staring intently at her. He was murmuring something that Owen couldn't really make out. Then Dad said something that made himself smile and Mum leaned down to give Dad one of those gross kisses with her tongue; Owen saw a flash of it before she did something with it in Dad's mouth. Dad closed his eyes and the hand on her bum squeezed harder.

Owen knew he wasn't supposed to be up. And he knew he probably wasn't supposed to be watching this either. But it was kind of interesting. His heart beat faster with knowing he could get into trouble. And then the worst occurred. Dad looked over at him standing in the doorway. Somehow the door was wide open now and Owen was totally exposed.

"Owen Michael, get back into bed right now!"

Mum turned to look at him, shocked, and fell against Dad's chest. Owen turned and ran to his bed, climbing over the mattress from the foot of the bed and scurried under the covers quickly, his heart pounding wildly now. He drew the blanket up over his head and curled up in a ball, waiting. He'd left the door wide open. Mum or Dad were going to come and close it and he was going to get told off. Lewis was right. He should have just gone back to sleep. Dad told him he was inquiestest. Inconsivtive? Mum said it meant he was interested in lots of things and always had to have a look. But sometimes it got him in trouble and this time he was going to be in trouble. He knew it.

A short while later Owen felt the energy in the room shift and knew one of his parents was there. He thought it would be Dad, to tell him off, but it was Mum. "Hey," she whispered. She tugged the blanket from Owen's head and the light from the door meant he could see her ok. It meant she could see him real good because it spilled all over his bed like a big spot light. "Are you awake wee man?"

Sometimes Owen was wee man, not like pee pee but like little. Dad told him. And sometimes Dad called him Batman. And sometimes Dad called him Trouble. He had lots of names. Lewis had lots of names too, like Munchkin and wee man too. But Dad was only Dad and Mum was only Mum. They had real names too like Dad's name was Cal and Mum's name was Gillian, which is what other people called them but Batman and wee man and Trouble were just for them. Owen liked that. That was special just for them.

Mum sat on the edge of Owen's bed and readjusted the blanket around his shoulders. He watched her for a moment. "Sorry for sneaking," he decided he should apologise first. Cos that always was a good thing when he was in trouble. It meant he would get less of a telling off.

"You should be asleep," Mum told him.

"I woke up. And went pee pee."

"Hm," Mum noted. She finished with the blanket and looked at him. "We'll talk about what you saw in the morning ok?"

"Ok," Owen agreed because he didn't know what else to say.

Mum leaned down to give him a kiss. "Go to sleep," she told him. "And don't come out again."

Owen agreed he wouldn't. She wished him a good night and he said the same. She told him she loved him and Owen smiled, pleased, mostly that he wasn't getting in trouble, and told her he loved her too. Mum went to the door and closed it tightly again. After a while the light went out from under the door and the room seemed very dark again. Owen waited a bit longer, then pushed back the covers for the third time. He dropped to the carpet and launched himself at his brother's bed. He climbed up and slid beneath the blanket next to Lewis.

"Are you awake?" He asked in his normal voice.

"What's wrong now?"

"I saw Dad with his hand touching Mum's private parts."

Lewis shifted so his arm held back the blanket from his face.

"I thought no one was allowed to touch private parts," Owen went on.

"You're allowed to touch your own," Lewis pointed out.

"Oh."

"And Dad said he sometimes touches Mums. She lets him. And she touches his too."

"Oh," Owen repeated. "Why?"

"I don't know. Dad said when you get big it feels good touching your private parts."

"Oh," Owen said again. Weird. He snuggled down further against the spare pillow. The beds were so big they had two pillows! One on each side. Like a big person's bed. Like Mum and Dad's bed. "Can I stay here?"

"Yes but don't kick me."

**PJ**

"Cal."

"Hm?" He came to. It felt like he was at home but it didn't take long for him to realise that this wasn't their bed and he was on the wrong side of it anyway, not like normal. "What?" He whispered, wondering if the boys were awake yet, trying to remember what he was supposed to be getting up early for today.

"Baby wake up," Gillian murmured at him and he was aware of her lifting the blanket from his chest and replacing it with her. She was warm. The condo was air conditioned. Thank. God. Which meant he could quite happily sleep with a blanket and his wife next to him. Otherwise he might die. His wife's hand stroked against his chest, a finger tip around his nipple and then down to his naval.

"What are you doin'?" He asked, coming more awake, forgetting to keep his voice down with their kids in the same room. Oh wait. Hang on. Condo. They weren't sharing a room anymore. Cal pried his eyes open. Gillian was giving him a pleased smile and she was wearing... holy... Cal sat up a little, pushing her away and leaning on an elbow, turning over to touch his fingertips to her bare arm. She was wearing something sexy, black lace. "You came prepared?" Cal teased.

Gillian gave him that bashful little smile that he knew meant she was actually incredibly pleased with herself. She seemed to make it her mission to catch him off guard and she was all too successful far too much of the time. "You have to pack for every eventuality when you go away on vacation," she responded softly. She shifted her hips closer to him. "So are you awake?"

"Bloody am now," Cal noted roughly. She leaned in to kiss him but he stopped her. "Wait." She gave him a concerned expression. "Is the door locked? Afta last night..."

"It's locked," she assured him swiftly, then crashed her lips against his. It took Cal a second longer to react. The hand at her arm tightened around her flesh and pulled her against him. The satin of her negligee was cool against his bare chest for a second until it absorbed his body warmth. Gillian shifted to get closer, pushing her mouth hard against him, her chest against his.

Cal sucked in a breath through his nose while he kissed her deeply. She gave one of those little involuntary moans in her throat that had his stomach clenching tightly. He pushed against her so she would move back. She lowered herself to the mattress and Cal pulled the blankets out from between them, so he could get in close, and Gillian watched him from the mattress, her chest heaving, her cheeks a little flushed, her eyes with that dark sheen to them that was just so sexy. Cal felt his groin stirring. He descended on her again and she brought her arms up to embrace him.

**PJ**

Lewis woke up and needed the toilet. Owen's feet were tangled in his so Lewis extricated himself carefully and walked the long way around the bed. Owen was almost horizontal across the mattress. Lewis went to the bathroom and went toilet. The water sounded strange in the sink without his aids on. Dad said it was like trying to hear underwater for a normal person but Lewis didn't know what that was like, just that that was how Dad described it. Owen had his mouth open while he slept so Lewis quietly put his aids on his ears and turned them on. He could hear the clock on the wall ticking now and a seagull calling out. It was like turning on a light in a room that only had a candle. That's what it was like for him. It didn't always used to be like that but his aids were getting better each time he got new ones.

He went to the bedroom door and opened it and peered out. The room was still dim because some of the curtains were closed but Lewis couldn't see anyone in there so stepped into the room. He crossed all the way to the other side. He raised his hand to knock on his parents and then he heard something. It sounded like... Dad. It sounded like how Dad sounded when Lewis could hear him talking through the wall. Lewis turned his head and moved his ear closer to the wood of the door. He didn't touch it because that might make a noise and alert his parents to the fact that he was listening. He should have looked at the time. He was allowed to be up wasn't he? No one had said he had to stay in bed this morning. They were going to see the space rockets. That wasn't a sleep in day.

Lewis held his breath as he listened and then he heard Mum moan and Dad laughed. Oh so they were definitely awake and it sounded like they were... yep they were probably having sex. Lewis stepped away from the door, backing up slowly and carefully. Then he went to check the time. The clock on the wall said it was ten past eight so he shouldn't get in trouble for getting up too early.

"Is Mum awake?" Owen asked in a croaky voice from the doorway of their bedroom, rubbing his eye. He looked sleepy and his blonde hair was sticking up at funny angles in the back.

"No," Lewis whispered bringing his finger to his lip in a 'shhh' gesture. "We should be quiet."

Owen nodded and headed over to the breakfast bar. He pulled out one of the tall stools, like at home, and climbed up. "I'm hungry," he stage whispered. What Lewis heard was 'gry' and for a second he thought Owen had said 'angry' even though the start of the word sounded a bit different. But Owen signed 'eat' and so Lewis realised he meant 'hungry'.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Lewis asked him, using 'morning' and 'eat'. Owen nodded so Lewis got out two bowls and then went to the cupboard for the box they had started yesterday. They had their own kitchen in the condo. It was like a house but in a big building with other apartments which was kind of like when they were at _Disneyworld_. Mum said they still had to remember that there were other people on the other sides of the walls so they couldn't make too much noise like they would at home. Lewis poured the cereal and then went to get milk. Owen picked at a scab on his arm.

After they ate they went to watch TV, putting it on low. There were captions too so Lewis put them on so he could read. If the TV was low he'd miss words and that was annoying. Especially because Owen was useless at telling him what the people on TV had said. And if the TV was too loud then Mum or Dad would come out to tell him off and he didn't like that. At home it wasn't so bad because they were upstairs and the TV was downstairs but when they were just in the other room, like they were now, they could hear.

Owen's head turned sharply. He was sitting on the couch on Lewis's right and he suddenly looked over. "What?" Lewis asked.

"I just heard Mum say 'yes' really loudly," Owen told him, pointing to his ear, then forming a fist and shaking it. "They must be awake." He opened his fingers in front of his face and opened his eye wide.

"But we're not allowed in," Lewis told him, shaking his head, when it looked like his little brother was going to get up.

"Oh how come?" Owen asked curiously, using 'why' by making a 'Y' hand.

"Because they're doing it," Lewis answered. He wasn't really sure what he should sign there. So he used 'busy'.

"Oh," Owen noted again. "Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"Like what they were doing yesterday night?"

"Yes," Lewis remembered something about Owen telling him he had seen Dad touching Mum. "They do that all the time."

"How come I never see?"

"Because they do it when you're asleep," Lewis said as if it were obvious, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes briefly. Sometimes Owen was really annoying because he didn't think about things but Dad told him it was because Owen was younger than he was and so Lewis had to be nice and be a good big brother. Being a big brother had a lot of responsibility. "So you can't see," Lewis went on, attempting to explain. "Cos sometimes there are things that you're just meant to do with someone you love and not really let other people know or talk about it with other people."

"How come?"

"Dad says it's private." Lewis pressed the back of his thumb against his lips.

"Oh." Owen paused for a second. "How come they do it all the time?"

"Cos they like it," Lewis surmised, meeting his thumb and middle finger in the middle of his chest, then opening them and closing them again. "Dad said it feels really good. That's why Mum likes it when he touches her but if she doesn't like it she tells him to stop and he stops. And that's why if someone tries to touch you, you should tell them no and they have to stop and if they don't stop then you should run away and tell someone else," Lewis recited, signing the key words.

"Dad told me that too," Owen said, using 'talk'.

Lewis gave a nod and focussed back on the TV. He couldn't hear anything that Mum and Dad were doing and so it didn't matter. Owen did too and then a while later he said: "How long do you think they'll be?" He drew his index finger from his wrist to his shoulder.

Lewis gave a shrug. "Sometimes its ages."

"Oh," Owen mused. "It's just cos my arm is bleeding now." He made a 'red' sign, then trickled his hand over his chest. He showed Lewis where the blood was coming out from the scab he had picked off.

"You're not supposed to pick them," Lewis told him. "I'll get you a band aid." He used 'bandage'. Dad called them plasters but everyone else Lewis knew called them band aids. It was kind of like knowing three languages, not just two.

Owen gave a kind of wincing and held up his arm high and followed Lewis around as they looked for a band aid. Lewis found some in the bathroom and brought them back to the kitchen where he knew a rubbish bin was. He used a paper towel on the bench to soak up the blood that was running down Owen's elbow. Owen complained it hurt. Lewis told him shouldn't have picked it. Owen's head turned and Lewis followed his gaze to see his mother coming out of her bedroom. She had a smile on her face and she was dressed in shorts and a little t-shirt. "Hi guys," she greeted.

"Hi Mum," Owen answered first. Lewis said hello too.

"What are you doing?" She asked, looking concerned.

"I'm bleeding," Owen announced.

Mum came closer. "What happened?"

Lewis pulled the paper off the band aid.

"My scab came off," Owen told her.

"You picked it off," Mum told him. She gave him a quick hug. "Lewis you're being such a good big brother," she told him, coming around to where he was standing and placing a kiss on top of his head. It made him smile. He liked Mum's kisses and mostly he liked her attention. Especially when she was telling him he was a good boy. She went to open the blinds on the kitchen windows and Lewis stuck the band aid down over Owen's ouchie.

"Do you think it'll stop bleeding?" Owen asked cradling his arm.

"Yes," Lewis told him, gathering up all his rubbish.

Dad came out next and approached where Mum had finished with the blinds. She saw him and gave him that special smile again. Dad's hair was wet so he must have had a shower. He gave Mum a smile too and placed his hands on her hips, leaning in to give her a kiss. She kissed him back, putting her arms around his neck.

Lewis saw Owen staring at them and he was amazed really that Owen hadn't realised they had sex and did stuff before. But then he remembered Dad said Owen was younger than Lewis so Lewis had to remember that sometimes. "They're always like this after they do it," Lewis told his brother, opening the cupboard under the sink to put the rubbish in the bin. Mum called it trash and so did everyone else Lewis knew but to Lewis it was rubbish. For some reason.

"Oi," Dad said and Lewis felt his fingers at his side, tickling. Lewis laughed because he couldn't help it and tried to duck out of the way but Dad grabbed him and pulled him closer, against his legs, trapping Lewis's arms behind him. Lewis tried to fight his way free but really, he liked it when Dad played with him. "Little smart butt."

"Have you guys had breakfast?" Mum asked. Owen told her that they had and that his arm hurt. "Then you should leave it alone," she told him.

Dad placed a kiss on Lewis's head, a matching one with Mum's and let him go. "What shall we do today?" He asked Lewis when he turned around again.

"We can go swimming," Owen announced, mimicking a breast stroke.

"Dad will you take me in the ocean?" Lewis reminded him. He said he would yesterday when they had been playing in the sand.

"Me too," Owen chimed in.

'_Great_,' Lewis thought. It was his idea to go in the ocean. But Dad had said he was too tired yesterday and that they would go today. After they went to see the space rockets.

"I can't take you both," Dad told them and moved out of the way so Mum could put the breakfast things on the bench again for her and Dad. "So Lewis can come swimming first."

"Oh but how come?" Owen complained while Lewis was secretly pleased.

"Because the ocean isn't like the pool," Dad told him, turning slightly, then leaning against the bench. "There are currents and big waves and I can't keep track of both of you."

"Then Mum will take me," Owen announced.

"I don't know," Mum answered. "Your sore arm might get infected."

Owen looked shocked and then dismayed and Lewis felt like laughing. The ocean wasn't going to make his arm get infected. But Owen didn't know that because he was small. Dad looked at Lewis and saw him smiling. He gave Lewis a grin and wiggled his eyebrows. Sometimes it was really cool being the big brother.


	103. Chapter 103

Cal didn't know this coffee house but he was game to try somewhere new, especially if it was recommended by his little coffee connoisseur. He wandered along the footpath at a fair pace, because he was late, but his eyes roved faces even faster, because he didn't want to walk by and not recognise the young man. Kent didn't spot him first and Cal got two seconds of uninterrupted studying before he did. Kent was blonde, which Cal hadn't know when he was in the hospital and had no hair at all. He still kept his hair short, though now it was tidy for work purposes. Kent was a social worker.

Cal caught his eye and Kent smiled. He stood to greet Cal, waving hello even though Cal was a few meters away still. Cal waved hello back and asked how Kent was. Kent gave him a bright smile and a thumbs up. Then Cal was close enough for a hand grasp and a quick hug. They sat. Kent asked how Cal was.

"I'm good," Cal responded verbally, also giving a thumbs up.

"That's good," Kent responded. His speech still had the distorted sound of a deaf man but he'd been having therapy since his cochlear implant. It was a decision he had agonised over, absolutely agonised. His mother had never even had him assessed for an implant because she had, firstly, not the money to pay for it, and secondly, whole-heartedly embraced the deaf culture. Cal suspected, on some small level, she liked the attention having a deaf son brought. But now that Kent was a fully fledged adult he had looked into it himself, out of curiosity, or so he told Cal. Cal suspected he wanted the best of both worlds; he was a part of a specific culture, with its own language but now he wanted to experience another. A bit like moving to another country. He hadn't given up on signing, or even tutoring younger children learning to sign, or Cal, who still went to Kent every time he was stuck. He hadn't shut out that aspect of his life but after the surgery, when Cal had gone up to see him in the hospital, Kent had cried because he realised just how much he had missed out on in the world of the hearing.

Getting the implant had caused a lot of friction for the twenty-two year old. His mother felt it was a rejection of the way she had raised him and a lot of Kent's deaf friends felt the same way too. The deaf had a culture and they vehemently defended it, particularly when it came to the implant debate. Kent had asked Cal what his opinion was but Cal wasn't entirely sure. Kent asked if Lewis was eligible would he get his son the surgery and Cal had to suppose that he would. But Lewis was eight, a lot younger than Kent, he was only hard of hearing and he would adjust relatively easily. And he hadn't been born that way. Well he had been born that way but not in the way Kent had been born that way. It was complicated. In the end Cal said he supported whatever Kent chose to do, that he would not judge one way or the other, that he would be there for him, but that he got the impression Kent wanted the surgery and was afraid of what other people thought.

"I ordered you a coffee," Kent went on. "You're lucky they're busy otherwise yours would be cold."

Cal hung his head at the admonishment. "I got stuck in traffic."

Kent waved a finger at him, "Uh uh Doctor Lightman. No lying now."

"Work," Cal corrected himself. "But I'm only a little bit late."

Kent gave a smug little smile and sat back in his chair. Their coffees arrived and they tried them, agreeing the drinks were good.

"So what are you up to today?" Cal asked. "You workin' late-a?"

"Free as a bird," Kent responded warmly. He worked shifts at a youth detention centre, which meant he had random days off in the middle of the week but sometimes was on graveyards.

"What's on your mind?" Cal asked next, fixing the young man with a steady gaze as he took another sip of his coffee.

Kent looked surprised for a moment then gave Cal an unimpressed expression. "That's cheating."

"You're an open book."

"Not fair," Kent pouted. "But I did want to talk to you about something." And now he looked pensive. Cal felt nerves settle in his stomach. This was how he had brought up the cochlear implant too. Kent was good at dropping bombshells. "Or tell you something really," Kent corrected. "Simon and I are moving to London."

Cal felt his jaw want to gape open with surprise but he held it together relatively well, even though he still let it be known he was shocked. "When?"

"In a few months. His commander got stationed there so he's transferring and I decided to go with him."

Cal let that sink in for a second. "Wow."

Kent gave a grin. "I'm excited about it."

"I can tell." Cal gave it another second. Give it a chance to sink in and he'd be over the shock and on to enthused."That's great Kent. I think... You'll love London."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," Cal confirmed. He had not been expecting that information and he felt... no, yeah, he felt sad about it, that Kent was leaving but also... excited for him? Or proud? That he was going to go off and have an adventure. Simon was a Lieutenant in the United States Navy, stationed at the Navy Yards. Cal wasn't sure what the young man did for the Navy exactly but he had met Kent at university several years ago now. Simon had taken an extra paper in philosophy and Kent was finishing his degree and Cal still remembered the sheer joy on his young friend's face the first time he talked about Simon.

"What did your Mum say?" Cal assumed he was not the first to know.

"She was a little upset," Kent noted. "But she also says I should follow my heart."

"Now that's good advice," Cal raised his coffee cup in salutation.

"Will you stay for lunch? Simon is going to meet me here."

"I can't stay for too long," Cal noted. "Will he be here soon?" Kent shook his head in the negative and he looked disappointed. "How about you guys come ova for dinna?" Cal offered instead. "Soon?"

Kent nodded to that.

"Definitely before you go," Cal added. Kent gave a smile. "So," Cal took another sip of his coffee. "Whereabouts in London are you gonna be based?"


	104. Chapter 104

After Cal took the boys out Gillian went to have a bath. There was something so deliciously delightful about being able to soak in the bath for as long as she wanted without having someone come to interrupt. Cal was pretty good at running interference but eventually even he couldn't keep the boys out of the bathroom to give Gillian a sense of not being rushed. So today she loaded the bath up with bubbles and milk and slid beneath the surface with a groan of delight. She had banished all bath toys except the yellow rubber duck to the basket stuck to the wall with suction caps. Those little buggers better hold too; she didn't want to have a heart attack. The duck was currently lost in the forest of bubbles and it was more for nostalgia than any sense of entertainment.

When the water was noticeably cool and the bubbles had dissipated, Gillian got out again. She smoothed body lotion over every inch of her toned skin, standing naked in her bedroom; another perk of being home alone. No one was going to barge on in and then complain she had no clothes on. Or try to cop a feel. Not that she minded that second one too much; at least she knew her husband was still interested in her. She might actually fall down with shock the day he walked in, saw her naked, and _didn't_ ogle or make a leering comment or bee line for a kiss. Actually, the day that that happened would scare the shit out of Gillian.

She dressed casually and comfortably and headed downstairs in her bare feet. The carpet was soft and clean, because she had vacuumed yesterday, in preparation for doing nothing significant today, while the boys were at the air show. This was her day to herself, which she got once a month now. The kitchen still smelt like toast from breakfast that morning and it was a brilliant day so Gillian opened some windows. And then she couldn't help herself and cleaned the kitchen properly, getting into all the corners and gaps that a quick wipe down would often miss. She was pretty satisfied with that and put the cloth down before she decided to do the other side of the breakfast bar or the pantry, or worse, the fridge.

Gillian checked her phone and saw a text. She smirked, thinking it was Cal, but when she opened the message it was actually from Kiera. She was in town. Gillian text her back immediately, inviting her to come over for a coffee. She didn't actually have specific plans until the afternoon and had planned to kill a few hours lying on the couch or maybe sitting outside in the sun, leafing through a magazine or two. Maybe having a nap. Seeing an old friend counted though. Kiera text back she would head over so Gillian tided up the house a bit more.

**PJ**

"Hi," Gillian answered the door enthusiastically. She hardly ever got to see Kiera anymore. They weren't exactly close. Not after what happened with Lily. But they had still kept in touch intermittently over the years.

"Hi," Kiera responded. Her hair was dyed lighter than the last time Gillian had seen her, which must have been more than six months ago but probably not a year. Otherwise she looked the same. Gillian ushered her inside and they headed to the kitchen where Gillian made coffee and offered cookies Lewis had baked. "Where are the boys?" Kiera asked, looking around. "You're alone?"

"I am," Gillian agreed with a slight smile. "Cal took them to the air show out at Andrews."

"Oh cool," Kiera noted. Gillian asked where she wanted to sit and the younger woman opted for the dining room table, which was still in the sun, but inside. She told Gillian what she had been up to recently and Gillian talked briefly about her own work, about heading back to practice. "Wow that's a big change."

"Not so much," Gillian gave a half shrug.

"You practiced before right?"

"Yeah," Gillian agreed.

"So not such a big change for you. But for Cal?"

Gillian gave a rueful smile. "Yeah Cal is... struggling with the idea. But it's not so different from when I was home with the boys when they were babies." He just didn't like to share.

"He'll get used to it," Kiera supplied. Gillian asked after her own work and Kiera answered that it was fine. There was nothing interesting going on to report. She was working towards a promotion so was busy. The details were boring anyway. "How are the boys?" She asked instead.

"Good," Gillian responded. "You know Owen's in school now?'

"How's he finding it?"

"I think he's a bit of a trouble maker. He doesn't tend to listen when he should be," Gillian responded with a slight smile. "But he's made friends with just about everyone."

Kiera smiled. "That's cool."

Gillian changed the subject to talk about Kiera again but she brushed off the questions once more and switched the subject back to Gillian's children. And finally Gillian took the hint. Kiera didn't come to talk about herself, she came to talk about the boys. Or something along those lines. So Gillian drank her coffee and ate a cookie and waited. She could let the other woman direct the conversation. She didn't mind. Emily showed up for a bit of free advice sometimes too.

"Lewis made these?" Kiera asked.

"Yeah," Gillian smiled again. "He has a real sweet tooth. Cal figures if he wants to indulge it then should be active in doing so and seeing as he can't work and pay for cookies he can make them. Once a week."

"Are we eating his ration?" Kiera asked lightly, amused.

"Probably," Gillian noted. "He doesn't mind sharing though."

"Lewis is a sweet kid."

"He is," Gillian agreed. But then it was easy to do so. Lewis _was_ a sweet kid and Owen was kind and caring in his own way too. He might not always pick up on the subtleties his older brother did, but when he realised someone needed a hug he was right there with plenty to spare.

"Devon wants to have kids," Kiera blurted into the silence. She brought her eyes up to Gillian's, checking her reaction.

Gillian gave a slow smile, not quite sure what to say yet, or why it was a big deal. Well she suspected she knew why it was a big deal but she wasn't going to make an assumption based on something that had happened a long time ago. Lily had happened such a long time ago now. "Now? Or after you get married?"

"After we're married. But, I mean he said he wanted kids before, when we were dating, but now it's all of a sudden after we're married."

Gillian nodded to show she was listening. "He has a plan?"

"I'm not sure he's got a specific plan with dates included... But he said to me the other day 'after we get married we'll start having kids'."

"What did you say?"

"I think I kind of agreed," Kiera gave her a helpless expression. "I didn't know what else to say. He caught me off guard."

"But you don't want to have kids straight after getting married?"

"I think he thinks we're running out of time."

Gillian gave a little frown of disbelief. "Because he's thirty-five?" Which was two years older than Kiera was.

Kiera gave a slight eye roll. "He worries he's getting old."

Gillian gave a slight laugh. If Devon worried about getting old at thirty-five then he'd have a fit once he reached Cal's age. Cal grumbled about his age now he was approaching sixty.

"Actually he worries about _having kids_ when he's too old." She stopped suddenly and looked to Gillian appalled. "Sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

Gillian waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it. I would have had kids at your age too if it was possible. Nor did Cal and I really plan on having kids in our forties and fifties. At this point, I'm just extremely grateful to even have them at all."

Kiera gave a nod.

"Do you want kids?" Gillian asked softly.

"Well," Kiera hesitated. "I'm not sure. There's just so much... there are so many things I think about."

"Like what?" Gillian prompted gently.

"I wonder if I'm ready." She paused. "I'm not thirty yet."

"Age is just a number," Gillian pointed out. "If you let it be." She was fifty-four but still felt like she was in her late forties. Cal also grumbled that she was aging better than he was and she had no explanation for that, than that she felt younger than she really was. Cal felt younger than he really was too but he was also aware that he was approaching a mile stone.

"I wasn't ready to be a mother to Lily..." Kiera started.

"And that was a long time ago," Gillian quickly cut in. "A lot of things have changed since then. You're older, for one," she conceded. "But you're also more mature. You have more life experience. You have a career and a stable job. You're engaged and you've bought a home. Life is different than it was back then," Gillian added firmly.

Kiera gave a nod, picked her fingernail against a groove of her coffee mug. "Yeah. I know."

"But if you're not ready Kiera then you need to tell Devon that. You shouldn't get into doing something you don't want to do, that you know in your heart isn't the right thing to do for yourself."

"I'm not sure what's right."

"So wait a little. You don't have to make a decision right now. Get married and see how you feel. Just because you put the ring on your finger doesn't mean everything has to change."

Kiera nodded to that too, listening. She seemed to say 'go on'.

"Maybe waiting until after your promotion would be a good idea? Then you'll be settled in a new position. You'll have something definite to go back to. If you choose to go back to work afterwards."

There was a silence.

"Devon would be all right with that wouldn't he?" Gillian pressed. "You guys talk about that kind of thing?"

"Yeah well we talk about things. Maybe not the details," Kiera admitted.

"Maybe you need to. Maybe you need more information before you can make a decision." Because Gillian knew one thing about Kiera in particular, and it was that she didn't make her decisions lightly. She thought about them very carefully and saw all the evidence before making her mind up.

"How long have you and Cal been married?"

"Uh, twelve years," Gillian was slightly startled about the subject change. But they had been together fifteen. And they had known each other for twenty-three. Still not half of either of their lives yet. But getting there!

"Do you get... bored? I'm sorry if this is too personal."

"It's fine," Gillian responded. Emily asked about her marriage too. And Ria had too before her husband had died. Apparently it was a source of fascination, the Lightman's marriage. Although, when Gillian thought about it, she and Cal really did have an interesting story. Why wouldn't people want to know about it? She wasn't going to impart some incredibly personal information, but she didn't mind talking about what made their marriage work and how they got over their problems. The most recent of which was her father's death over a year ago now.

"I'm lucky," Gillian started. "Because Cal is my best friend so no, I don't get bored with him. I find him interesting," she gave a slight smile. "And I'm in love with him so I want to be around him all the time. But we make sure we keep our lives interesting. Hence a day like today. He takes the boys out of the house for most of the day to give me space and I do the same for him and one weekend once a month we try to palm the boys off onto someone else so we can have time alone." Which wasn't always with the intention to just have sex, but more often than not that did happen.

Kiera nodded. "Devon and I are usually on the same page about a lot of things and I worry that we'll get bored."

"So make sure you don't. The best advice I can give you is to be actively engaged in your marriage. Don't fall asleep at the wheel. Keep track of how often you do something out of the ordinary for him. Every so often Cal buys me flowers. He never buys me flowers, not on anniversaries or mother's day or my birthday. So when he does, when he goes out of his way to surprise me it's extra special. Because he made an effort to go do that. For me."

"You're not pissed off he doesn't bring you flowers on your anniversary?"

"Flower's aren't Cal's style," Gillian added with a slight laugh. "So I don't mind that I don't get them all the time and I know when I do get them, it really means something. He doesn't forget those dates, and it's not like he doesn't do something else to mark the occasion..." She gave a shrug to say it was no big deal. "When he buys flowers I know he's been thinking of me and he's trying to show me he loves me."

"Right," Kiera said dubiously.

Perhaps the flowers weren't a good example. It was too common. But Gillian wasn't going to reveal the discussions Gillian and Cal had had about their sex life. Sex didn't equal a good marriage and a good marriage didn't equal good sex, but the two had a positive correlation. When they didn't have sex for a while they lost some of their magic, their connectivity.

"Let's put it this way. If I got flowers every anniversary I would come to expect them and they would lose their meaning. There is such a thing as over kill. Everything is better in its moderation."

Except sex. Could never get enough of that.

"Devon loves it when I make apricot pie. He says I make it a special way that's better than he's ever tasted anywhere else. That's silly right? Food?" She almost rolled her eyes. Gillian was starting to suspect this conversation might be a case of cold feet, not necessarily a fear of having children.

"That takes quite a bit of effort," Gillian noted. "To make a pie. From scratch?"

Kiera nodded. "So I don't do it very often," she admitted.

"But when you do, he must be pretty happy."

"Yeah," Kiera admitted almost shyly.

"So he knows it's a big deal when you do it."

"Yeah I guess," Kiera agreed. "So you're saying I shouldn't make it on our anniversary? Or his birthday?"

"No I'm not saying that. I'm saying, what if you went home today and made one from scratch to surprise him when he got home? He'd be really surprised right?"

"Yeah," Kiera confirmed.

"Because he would _expect_ it on his birthday. But would be getting a bonus, a surprise, an extra effort."

"Oh I see," Kiera suddenly clicked. "What if he doesn't do that kind of thing for me?"

Gillian had had her fair share of those kinds of relationships. Actually, most of them had been like that. She thought of Alec in particular. One sided. Until she met Cal. Or well, to be fair, he was the same too, when they had first met. He had been mostly selfish and focussed on his own life but eventually he had come around. It just went to show, that treating people how she wanted to be treated had actually worked out in Gillian's favour. Because now she had Cal. Who would go out of his way to get her favourite flowers from the only store in the entire Maryland, DC, Virginia area, because they often arranged them in a way she liked, which was miles out of his way, because he knew she liked them so much. That was making an effort for someone else's sake. And then there were the billion other things he did for her, some of them big gestures, most of them small, some of them noticed, most of them completely unacknowledged.

"Well," Gillian answered. "It can go two ways. You can sit to the sidelines and hope he notices you. Or you can get up and talk to him."

And Gillian had done both with Cal. She had wanted him to notice her as an equal, his business partner, and it turned out when he did, he fell in love with her. Which was amazing and she'd had no idea until she was suddenly free of her first husband and realised that maybe she hadn't entirely seen Cal either. And that was how she had fallen in love with him. Really fallen. And now they talked about things directly that were bothering them because neither wanted to lose the other and neither wanted their marriage to fall apart like their first ones had.

"You and Devon talk right?" Gillian pressed gently. Not that she really wanted to pry, or tell Kiera how her relationship should be going. Gillian had realised a long time ago that what she had with Cal was special. It was a one in a million kind of marriage, friendship, connection, and just because whatever it was that worked for them worked, probably a combination of so many things, that didn't mean those same things would work for someone else.

"Yeah we talk," Kiera agreed.

"So you could talk to him about this too. About having kids and what _your_ goals for your lives together are. You don't have to do everything he wants but you shouldn't always get your way. It's a compromise and it's important to also be flexible. I wanted to go to Italy for our honeymoon but it wasn't really possible with everything we had going on so we compromised on the Caribbean." She pronounced it carry-bee-an whereas Cal said car-rib-bee-an, which made her giggle. Not because he sounded funny saying it, but because it was the same word said so differently.

"We both compromised," Gillian went on. "Cal hates the sun, I love the beach. I wanted Italy, Cal didn't want to spend his honeymoon sightseeing." Gillian gave a shrug. "But I don't regret it, and that's important too. Because it could lead to resentment. Though at the time I did figure we would save up and go some other time. That was before we had children," Gillian mused. "And now our plans have changed even more. I'd still like to get to Italy. But maybe when the boys leave home instead." She gave a shrug. "Who knows?"

Kiera nodded as she listened, thoughtful but attentive.

Gillian finished her coffee, which was cold now, and stood to clear Kiera's empty mug too, and the dirty plate. She didn't mind talking with the young woman but she also had somewhere to be. She had plans for this afternoon and bigger ones to surprise Cal when he got home later in the evening. Kiera took the hint though. She stood and slung her purse over her shoulder again, following Gillian to the kitchen. "Thanks for listening," Kiera started.

Gillian gave her a smile as she turned towards her. "Of course. Any time."

"And I'm sorry to crash on your day off."

"No big deal," Gillian's smile went wider. "I would have just ignored your message if I didn't want to see you!"

Kiera laughed and they headed for the door. "I'm glad Lily didn't stop you from having more kids."

Gillian stood on the stoop in her bare feet. This part of the house was in shade and the concrete was cold against her skin. "We didn't get a lot of choice when it came to Owen," Gillian reminded her with a content smile. "I just wouldn't want Lily to stop you from having more kids." She put her hand on Kiera's arm and gave it a squeeze, then backed off again.

Kiera gave her a slight smile. "I'll try not to. I do want to have kids."

Gillian gave a nod and a smile, watching a car go by slowly. She half thought it might be Cal and was actually disappointed when it wasn't. She was such a sucker for him.

"Well, enjoy the rest of your day," Kiera added.

"Thanks," Gillian smiled at her. "You have a good weekend." Kiera said she would and headed down to her car parked on the street. Gillian gave her a wave and headed inside again. She felt a pang of nerves. It was time for her to get ready to go out. She had an appointment at a tattoo parlour. It had been a spontaneous decision but one she was still excited about. She couldn't wait to show Cal. He would have a fit.


	105. Chapter 105

Cal heard something in his sleep that woke him, but he wasn't quite sure what it was until a small hand was on his shoulder, murmuring his name. "Hm?" He responded, thinking it was Owen with a bad dream. Although, usually the eighteen month old went straight to his mother. And he was usually a lot less subtle about it. He would push the door so it banged back against the wall and he would run to their bed, throwing himself against the mattress, calling out and waking them both. It sucked that Owen knew how to climb out of his bed now.

"Dad, the tooth fairy came!" Lewis exclaimed now that it seemed his father was awake. "She came! She really came! I didn't even notice her."

Gillian gave a little noise from her side of the bed. Cal pried his eyes open. Lewis was standing beside the bed, his face bright with joy, which Cal could tell easily enough though his vision was still bleary. Lewis had his hand held out with the five dollars in it Gillian had snuck into the boys' room the night before. She got to play tooth fairy this time. It was her first attempt.

"Wow," Cal croaked. He cleared his throat and moved his arms, even though they felt a bit like dead weights. "She's pretty good at bein' sneaky. How much did you get?"

"Five dollars," Lewis added excitedly, waving a 'five' hand in his father's face.

"The tooth fairy must have really liked your tooth," Cal noted sleepily. Gillian kept it. Which was gross to Cal but apparently not that uncommon. Her mother had kept Gillian's and Matthew's teeth. Where were they now? Extra gross.

"Dad, you know how fairies are very small?"

"Yeah?" Cal asked. This conversation was going to go on? Ugh he wanted to go back to sleep.

"How does it carry the money?"

"In its bag," Cal responded. The thing with lies was that more lies had to be told to explain the first lie and then the lies got confused. Cal hoped Gillian was listening. Not that he thought Lewis might grill his mother the next chance he got to compare the answers of his parents. But what if she let slip the tooth fairy had a horse and cart or something like that? Or a magic wand? The least they could do for the six year old is keep the magic alive for a while. That was why they let him believe in Santa and the tooth fairy. For the magic. Because they believed children should learn about magic. The wonderment of a story; the joy of a good myth. If they didn't believe in magic, how were they ever going to find it? Fairytales and make believe were told on the presumption that eventually kids out grew it and learnt the truth. Where was the harm in that? The stories weren't told for control (except maybe Santa. Sometimes), they didn't make promises for punishment (except for maybe Santa. Sometimes) and they didn't make promises that were not kept (not even Santa). Not like religion did.

"The one for the tooth?"

"Yes," Cal agreed. He didn't remember telling Lewis about that. Perhaps that was a Gillian aspect. He shifted over a little so Lewis could take a seat on the edge of the mattress. Cal would have invited him in for a cuddle but it was dark in the bedroom and it would be harder to see hands than it already was, if they were under blankets.

"What do they use the tooth for?"

"To make fairy dust." And Cal was out of signs. He hadn't researched 'fairies'.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," Lewis noted slowly, as if he was processing some complex piece of information that just explained so much. "What do they do with it then?"

"It helps them fly," Cal responded. Wasn't that right? Tinkerbell had fairy dust for flying. Or was that to make other people fly? He was going to have to ask Gillian.

"So they can get more teeth?"

"Yeah," Cal agreed. And maybe pop out for lunch or go on holiday. What did fairies do exactly? Maybe they made the fairy dust out of the teeth and then sold it to other fairies to fly? Fairies were not his forte. However, it was possible to ask him anything at all about Munchkins and Munchkin land. He'd seen that movie freaking more times than he could remember. "What are you gona spend your five dollas on?" Cal asked, hopefully changing the subject, moving his finger against his thumb like he was sliding a coin out from between them.

"Um a toy," Lewis finger-spelled.

Cal fought the urge to turn over. "Did you see one you wanted?"

Lewis shook his head. "But I can find one."

"Sure," Cal agreed. Of course, five dollars wouldn't really go a long way towards anything. If Lewis got his mother to take him she would probably help him out with getting something he wanted though. Who was Cal kidding? He'd buy Lewis whatever he wanted too. Amend that to: within reason.

"Can I watch TV?" Lewis suddenly asked.

"Sure," Cal agreed. Good. There were his chances of getting back to sleep increasing again. "Is your brutha awake?"

Lewis gave a shrug. Cal hadn't thought to check the time. Perhaps it was early. Perhaps Lewis had woken up excited. Perhaps this was a bit like Christmas. "Can you check?" Cal requested. The rest was a given. If Owen was awake Lewis would take him downstairs and they would watch TV together for a bit until an adult came down. Owen tended to be sleep in, in the mornings so he would sit passively for a while. But even so, six year old Lewis was working out to be a pretty good babysitter. He'd keep Owen entertained with cars and blocks and other games for at least a few hours. Before Owen was starving.

Lewis said he'd go and check on Owen and Cal thanked him. The boy slid from the mattress to his feet and disappeared. Cal kept an ear half open and within a few minutes he heard Lewis reminding Owen to be careful on the stairs. When they were out of earshot Cal relaxed again and prepared to get back to sleep. Gillian shifted and then she was against his back, sliding a hand around his waist to his abdomen. She curled up behind him, warm and sleepy and pressed her face into the back of his neck and the crook of his shoulder.

"They use it to fly?" She muttered.

"Don't judge me," Cal responded. "I was wingin' it and it sounded quite logical."

"Hm," Gillian agreed.

"What _do_ tooth fairies use teeth for?"

"I have no idea," Gillian sighed and settled against him. She went quiet and Cal felt himself being pulled under again. He drifted back to sleep.


	106. Chapter 106

They stood on the brilliant white beach and watched the boat speed away and Cal had a sudden thought that they could be abandoned on the island and die there. That was morbid and this wasn't a TV show. And there was another inhabited island not too far away. Within swimming distance anyway. It would be a bit of a swim but doable; Cal was confident in the water. Plus they were carrying a radio to signal in case some sort of emergency occurred. They were going to explore the private island for most of the day and get picked up in the afternoon again. They were to meet the boat back there at three pm. They had a picnic lunch. This was Gillian's pick.

"Shall we?" She suggested.

"We shall," Cal reached over to take her hand. "But let's start out slow." She gave a little laugh and let him guide her down the beach. It took them an hour to walk around the island and once they were back at the starting point they stopped for water and a snack before heading inland. There were paths worn clear on the little island by other feet but nothing official. The sound of birds was loud in the underbrush and without the fierce heat of the sun it was cool.

Near the middle of the island was a short water fall and swimming hole. Apparently. And that was where Gillian was interested in heading. She thought a picnic by the fresh water would be nice. Cal let Gillian go in front and she picked the way aimlessly, looking around all the time at birds or plants, stopping to point out something interesting to Cal. He spent most of his time staring at her ass.

After twenty minutes of slightly uphill hiking they broke out into a meadow. The waterfall gushed ahead; the drop was probably only two or three meters. There was a large tree right at the water's edge where a rope had been tied. The end trailed in the wide water hole at the base of the waterfall. It was deep, they had been assured, but not clear. The sun beat down fiercely again now that they were out of the undergrowth, as if recapturing them meant it would not let them out of its grasp again. Cal found himself a little puffed and stood still while Gillian moved forward into the ankle length grass. A butterfly took off from its hiding place amongst the leaves of a bush and Cal noticed it was silent, aside from the sound of crashing water; they must have spooked the birds.

Cal headed over to Gillian who was inspecting the water. She gave him a smile as he approached. "We could go swimming later," she suggested. "After we have lunch?"

"Sure," Cal agreed easily.

"Are you hungry? We could eat now."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll eat now," Cal told her, slinging the backpack from his shoulders. His back was prickly with sweat and he felt disgusting. A swim was incredibly appealing.

"More sun screen first I think," Gillian looked up at the sky. It was brilliant blue. "We probably sweated off the first dose."

Cal dug in the bag for the bottle and handed it over. He dropped the backpack to the ground while he waited for Gillian to squirt a dollop of white liquid into the palm of her hand, and shook out their picnic blanket. Once Gillian was finished, Cal took the bottled and did the same, starting with his arms, then bending slightly to do his legs, particularly the back of his calves, that were looking suspiciously pink. He put the bottle in the bag again and straightened up.

"It's gotten dark," Gillian suddenly turned to him with a frown. They both looked up at the impressive black cloud looming over them like an alien space ship from a horror movie about to strike with a vaporising laser.

"Well that doesn't look good," Cal noted. He felt the sudden pressure of a large droplet of water against the crown on his skull. He looked over at his new wife and she was watching him. More droplets pelted intermittently and she hunched her shoulders, as if that would protect her. She stepped toward him and then the sky opened up.

"Oh!" Gillian let out, surprised.

Cal grabbed the bag and moved towards her, hustling towards the closest tree. There wasn't going to be a lot of protection under it but that was better than just standing out in the complete onslaught. He was too slow though, or the rain was too fast; they were soaked through in the ten seconds it took to relocate. Gillian's hair hung in saturated clumps, the ends dripping, and her clothes were dark and clinging to her figure as they stood, getting over the shock. "Oh my god," she laughed, clutching at her top to pull it away from her stomach.

"Not a lot of warnin' on that," Cal agreed, dumping the bag against the trunk. His clothes felt heavy against his skin, but at least it wasn't so hot. Even his shoes were soaked, his toes felt damp. A drip hit the back of his neck and slid under his t-shirt, making him shiver even though it was far from freezing. The rain had lowered the temperature a few degrees though. And it was loud, drumming against the ground and trees and the water of the swimming hole a few meters away. Gillian suddenly pulled the singlet off over her head, revealing the practical black bra she had on underneath. "Day two of marriage and gone is the sexy undawear," Cal grinned.

Gillian gave him a smirk and kicked off her shoes while undoing the buttons of her short shorts. "What are you doin'?" Cal asked, surprised.

"I've always wanted to dance in the rain," Gillian answered.

Cal blinked, more shocked. "You what?"

"No one's here," Gillian stooped to pull off her socks.

"Was the prerequisite for the dance to be conducted naked?" Cal watched her, his voice rising higher with astonishment.

"Well I don't want my clothes to get wet," Gillian responded lightly, wiggling her shorts over her hips. They dropped to her feet and revealed black lace.

Cal stared, mouth slightly again. "It take it back," he growled and Gillian shot him a look before taking off at a run out into the rain. Cal watched her kind of, frolic and skip and then throw her head back, arms spread wide, to laugh at the rain. In her underwear. Merlin's beard. The rain started to ease and her grin turned to a pout. She looked over at him. "Are you going to join me?" She called.

Cal actually thought about saying 'no', he was quite happy watching, but the rain eased up a little more, so it was more misty and he thought 'why the hell not'? He pulled off his shirt and Gillian catcalled. He whipped the shirt around his head like a helicopter and rotated his hips. Gillian clapped her hands and laughed. She said something else Cal didn't catch. He kicked his shoes off and peeled away his damp socks, then made sure she was watching while he undid the button of his shorts and the fly.

"Hurry up!" She called and this time Cal heard her. "Let's go swimming!" And she turned and ran to the edge of the large rock jutting out over the water. She took a second to look in, then jumped, so her feet cut through the water and she left a delicate little splash. Cal watched intently until she surfaced. She wiped the water from her eyes and turned to him. He stepped out of his shorts and headed towards her, his gait quickening until he leapt the last few feet into air. He struck the water in a cannonball. It was colder than he had expected and it shocked him all over for a second until he acclimatised. When he broke the surface Gillian was already practically on him, breast stroking into his chest. Cal couldn't reach the bottom, and he had no idea what was beneath his feet. He had to tread water, which was harder to do with someone else hanging on to him.

"Hm," Gillian hummed as she came in close and pressed a kiss against his lips. The rain had stopped completely now and Cal could feel her legs working to keep her head above the water even as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The sun came out again.

"This is terribly naughty," Cal noted, moving his left arm around her waist. His right he kept swimming back and forth to keep his head above the water.

"What? Practically skinny dipping?"

Cal felt her hand slide down his chest to his groin. He gripped her harder.

"We're in underwear Cal," she pointed out. "And _no one_ is around." She gave him a sultry smile, her blue eyes bright in the reflected light from the sun on the water. "You bring out the naughtiness in me," she murmured before giving him another quick kiss. She tasted like fresh water.e steHe s

Cal chuckled and she gave a grin, flashing her teeth. "You seem happy," he said before he pressed a kiss against his wife's lips. His wife.

"I _am_ happy Cal," Gillian told him firmly, smiling, eyes crinkling in confirmation. She looked happy. Incredibly happy and she laughed so much and was so light. Cal was happy too, he was, but not in the way Gillian seemed to be; so giddy with it. He didn't feel like that inside. He wondered what it felt like.

Gillian kissed him again. "You know Cal. _No one_ is around."

Cal focussed on her again. Her eyes were serious all of a sudden.


	107. Chapter 107

Cal had a policy for not turning his kids away when they asked him about something but there was such a thing as time and place. Owen was only six and he knew about how babies were born and how boys and girls had different private parts and how private parts were private. But he didn't need to really know the gory details about puberty or contraception yet so Cal waited until they got home before he suggested Lewis and he go into the other room to finish the conversation they had been having in the car about vasectomies. Not that Lewis needed to know about contraception or vasectomies at this point in his young life, but he _had_ asked, and Cal would explain.

After getting home from school it was snack time and they were allowed to hang out for a bit to relax, before getting back into their duties. Owen didn't entirely do well with the idea of playing on his own. He was a younger brother and used to someone always being around to help entertain him, so Cal let him watch TV. Television was their last resort babysitter. Lewis was often at the mercy of his little brother. Quality time was frequently interrupted by Owen. So Cal felt this was a good excuse for TV babysitting; it would give him some uninterrupted one-on-one with his eldest son.

Lewis was an attentive listener. It had been easy telling Owen about babies because he seemed uninterested even though he sat through the book and conversation and then went on his way. He had come back for some follow up but Lewis, he was different, he thought about things. And he thought about things deeply so Cal knew he couldn't particularly gloss over. Luckily for him, his wife actually had a plan for imparting this kind of information. So Cal had a book, a prop, thank god, because he wasn't sure how else he would talk about it. Cal had figured out about puberty when he was older, after the fact, and could read books in the school library. To be fair, he and his friends hadn't really read the book but just giggled over the pictures of body parts and laughed about wet dreams when they were probably all experiencing them themselves.

Cal read the book to Lewis who leaned in close to see and was quiet. The book talked about how a boy's body would change during puberty, how a girl's body would change and what the changes were for. Lewis was ten and so he had not started to change, at least as far as Cal could tell. He still had the body of a little boy and perhaps it was a bit early to be thinking about him in this situation but Cal had seen some of the girls in his son's class and they were already maturing. And seeing as Lewis was asking about the mechanics of making a baby...

After the book was read Cal turned back to the pages that focussed on boys becoming men. "See now, goin' back to what you asked me in the car, about vasectomies," Cal went on smoothly. He pointed to the particular tube in the blown up image. "They make a cut through here with a lase-a and then burn the ends so..."

"So the sperm in there," Lewis pointed to the testicle that had been bisected to show the inner workings. "Travels up there," he traced the looping path with the tip of his finger. "And then goes nowhere." He finished flatly.

"Right," Cal agreed and yes, his balls were still prepared to take off at any moment and protect themselves, all this talk of cutting them. "They go back into your body."

"How do they burn the ends?"

"They take a little wand thing that's like a solderin' gun and singe the ends of the tube," Cal answered. He wanted to cross his legs. Seriously.

"What's a soldering gun?"

Cal quickly explained how two pieces of metal could be joined together by melting small ball bearings to form a metallic kind of glue, using a special kind of flame, that when cold again would be quite impressively strong.

"They put one of those inside you?" Lewis turned up his nose in shock.

Cal chuckled. "Not literally a big one that put together a computer processin' board a moment ago. A people one. They use them for lots of things. Burning off moles and stoppin' arteries from bleedin' and all sorts." 'Bleed' was a neat sign, like a blood splatter dripping down the chest.

"Oh," Lewis noted.

"So rememba I said there were otha ways to not have babies?" Cal prompted again. Lewis might not remember what he'd said in the car enough to ask his Dad about it but his Dad certainly did. And he would rather get it all out now than drag this conversation awkwardly out over several days. Lewis was bound to come back with follow up as it was. Just because Cal tried to talk about things didn't mean it was easy to do so.

"Do women have their... what's the tube thingy that the eggs come out of?"

"Falopian tubes," Cal supplied.

"Yeah those. Do they get them cut?" Lewis drew the index finger of his right hand over the black of his left hand, down, like his finger was a knife and he had just slashed at his other hand.

"Women have a simila procedure to stop the eggs from gettin' into the womb, but the tubes get tied or clamped, not cut and burnt."

"Oh," Lewis said again.

Cal gave him a moment to think about it.

"So then the egg just gets absorbed back into the body like the sperm does?"

"Um yeah sort of. The egg leaves the ovary but it just falls into the abdomen and then gets absorbed."

Interesting point: Lewis seemed to not be bothered at all by this conversation. He wasn't squeamish nor did he shy away from using the correct terminology. How refreshing. And kind of impressive. For a ten year old.

"So if you don't want babies you have to go get your doctor to do a operation?"

"No," Cal corrected. Good, Lewis brought it back up this time. "There are lots of different ways. Some are for boys and some are for girls." He told him about 'the pill', about condoms, about the somewhat persistent 'withdrawal' method and diaphragms. This side of the conversation was probably a wee bit premature for Lewis. He was only ten after all. But why not? Puberty was about the body changing to have babies, why not learn about that and how _not_ to have babies at the same time? Lewis would get to an age where he would think of nothing but practicing making babies. Cal knew that. From personal experience. And as Gillian's 'talk to your kids about babies/sex' plan went, the more reinforcement the better. Introduce it now, mention it again, and then again until he got the point. Before they had a freaking accidental pregnancy on their hands.

"Then how come people want to cut their balls?"

"Really good question," Cal commended. "Because condoms and the pill are just one off types of birth control. You have to use condoms every time or take the pill every day. A vasectomy is pretty permanent."

"It's for married people who don't want any more kids?"

"Sure yeah, that's an option. But you know, everyone is different. Some men don't wanna have kid's eva so they get one done."

"Is that how come you have no more kids? After you were married to Zoe?"

"No," Cal gave him a slight nudge and an amused smile. "How did me and Mum have you if I had a vasectomy afta I was married to Zoe?"

"Oh," Lewis gave a little proud smile.

"You were very wanted Lew," Cal put an arm around his son's shoulders.

The boy's smile got a little broader.

"You, my darlin', were _very_ wanted."


	108. Chapter 108

Cal kissed his wife's mouth warmly and it was nice. He wasn't complaining or anything. And she was paying attention, not acting like she was bored. She wasn't distracted. She was focussed and Cal was excited, since the doc had put him on to those herbal tablets he'd been... impressively enthusiastic and everything but... He pulled away. _He_ was distracted. Gillian lifted herself from the bed to continue pressing kisses against the curve of his neck and along his shoulder and clavicle. It felt good. It did. He wasn't complaining about that. But there was something...

"Ok what?" Gillian murmured. She looked up at him, her eyes dark, turned on and lighting contributing.

"What?" Cal asked, startled.

"You're a million miles away. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" She gave him a kind of self-impressed smirk.

Cal pulled away a little more so he didn't have to hold himself up over her. Gillian let him go and dropped back to her pillow. He could see she was fighting to not let it bother her but he didn't really blame her. Him being distracted while they were fooling around was probably a very good indicator that something was wrong, with him or the both of them. And she was right. There was something that was bothering him. Cal leaned back on his elbow, next to her. "Are you?" He stopped. Wait, what was he asking?

Gillian raised an eyebrow in question, "Am I what?"

"Um," he hung his head a little. "I'm not sure."

Gillian gave a laugh and turned over on her side to face him. Her face was open and amused. "Try," she encouraged lightly.

"How long we been togetha?" Cal started. "Twenty years right?"

"Yes," Gillian agreed.

"You don't...?"

"Don't?"

"Get?"

"Get?" Gillian repeated, almost laughing again.

Cal hung his head again. "It's not gonna sound right howeva I say it."

"Ok, then just say it. I'll consider myself warned."

"Bored," he muttered. He looked up to meet her eye. She didn't look too surprised though he did see a slight widening of her eyes for a micro-second. He winced. "Not that I'm sayin' I'm bored but I just mean that..."

"We've been having sex for twenty years and you'd like to do something different?"

"Yes that. And I'm not sayin' you don't do it for me. Cos you do," he gave her a very pointed expression. He hoped she did know. He wasn't shy about showing her just how turned on he was.

Gillian gave a slight smile. "I know," she said, the smile turning to a grin.

Cal grinned back. Good. He relaxed a little.

"So you're," she gave a serious little frown. "Bored."

"Not bored."

"You're bored," Gillian repeated firmly. "Ok. Twenty years of sex is going to mean you're bored."

"Ugh," Cal groaned. "It sounds bad."

"No," Gillian laughed again and reached out a hand to his arm to keep him from rolling away from her. "Come on. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation. And every other time we have it's been fine."

"Yeah but it's..."

"Nope," Gillian cut him off. "It's fine. Talk to me about what you want to do differently."

Cal went quiet. "I don't actually..." The fantasy thing had worked quiet well for a while. And then of course there was sex in the office, which was really a fantasy of Cal's. That had been incredibly fun but not always practical. They were both getting older. Sex in bed was absolutely the most appealing right now. "I'm not talkin' about anythin' completely wild. That would have been a lot more practical when we were younga."

Gillian gave a slight eye roll. "That's very true."

"I haven't thought this through," Cal admitted.

"So let's think about it now," Gillian encouraged again. "What could possibly be fun? For both of us. That we haven't already done," it almost looked like she winked at him.

"You know one thing we haven't got into?" Cal started, the idea suddenly there, and he wondered if it had come to him that sneakily that maybe he had thought of it before, if not consciously, then maybe on some subconscious level.

"What's that?" Gillian's face remained open.

"Toys."

Gillian watched him, her face became more amused. "Toys? What kind of toys are you talking about?"

"Uh sex toys."

"Yes I figured that. But I meant... what kind of sex toys in particular?"

"Nothin' extreme. I'm not gonna ask you to tie me up and stick a leatha gag in my mouth, whip me and call me 'bitch'."

Gillian laughed loudly.

"But you know... somethin' tame?"

"Sure."

"Really?" Cal asked. "You'd be in to that?"

"Why do you get the impression I'm such a prude? We've been having sex together for twenty years."

"All right," Cal grumped. "Point taken." She might have put the kibosh on a few specific ideas, or more accurately, made clear her limitations, but she had never said 'no' to him. "What about startin' off with somethin' low key?"

"Sure," Gillian agreed readily.

"All right." Cal watched her for a moment. An idea sprung to mind and he gave a grin. "I'll go shoppin'."

"Do I get to come with you?"

"Nope," he gave a slight shake of his head. "I'm gonna..." He kept his tone purposefully light. "I'm gonna go explorin'," he mused. "See what I can find." He half expected her to suddenly warn him against something in particular but he shouldn't have been surprised by her silence. She trusted him. He knew what she was into and what she didn't like; he knew what she would absolutely deplore, what she might be a little resistant to but could cave on... They'd been sleeping together for twenty years. Bloody hell. That was how long they had been together now. Twenty years.

"What?" Gillian prompted. She waved a hand in his face obnoxiously. "What was that right there?"

Cal batted her hand away with a laugh and leaned in to kiss her again. "Shut it you," he warned with a growl.

"Make me," Gillian retorted.


	109. Chapter 109

The little room behind the reception desk smelt like hot chemicals and Cal thought again that they should have a window in there. Poor Kim must be completely intoxicated going in there to pick up the printing when it was really going for it. To be fair, they lived in an almost paperless world. If something was printed out it was a rarity considering everyone had a tablet these days or a phone that was capable of a back rub and a cup of coffee in the morning. But Cal was a little bit old school and so he was blasting the copier with his massive printing incentive because having a physical copy just felt right. Normally, gathering the printing and binding it was Kim's job but this was actually a personal project.

Once the printer finally whirred to a stop and the room went quiet, Cal pulled the last twenty pages from the tray and flipped them over. He went to the punch and cut the holes, then threaded the end of the book onto the stack already on the binder and placed the back cover on the very top. He closed the spirals and picked up the entire hefty weight. There was something satisfying about holding a tangible copy of his work. A bit like the first day he'd opened the box to pull out his FACS manuals; or the first time he'd held his baby. Cal studied the cover and felt a little pang of nerves. Then he headed out of the copy room and out into the hallway.

He'd picked this day specifically because Gillian was here. Five year old Owen had started school and Gillian was back at the Lightman Group every day, albeit she finished the day earlier to get the boys from school. But she was back. That was the point. And Cal felt better for that. He liked having her close. He always had.

She was at her desk when he found her, working on the mound that tended to pile up when she was busy being a mother; the stuff she didn't delegate away. She gave Cal a smile when he came in and then a curious second glance when she noticed what was in his hands. Cal gave the tomb to her and she looked at the title page, then back up at him, surprised. "What's this?'

"I wrote a book."

"Another one?"

"Yeah."

"You've been bitten by the writing bug."

Cal gave a slight grin. He sat on the edge of her desk, facing her. "You rememba when I hurt my head?"

"Yes," her light demeanour faded quickly.

"Do you rememba before that? I was writin' a book?"

Gillian looked away to recall. "I remember you said you were writing one, but that was _after_ you came home from the hospital. You didn't mention it to me before hand."

"Well that's it there," Cal indicated the manuscript she was now resting against the edge of her desk.

"This is the book?" Gillian looked up at him, surprised again.

"Yeah."

"You finished it?"

"Obviously."

Gillian gave him a disapproving expression. "What I meant to say was 'when did you finish this?' I didn't see you writing?"

Cal gave a slightly sheepish response. "What do you think I do in my office all day?"

"I'm not sure I want to know," Gillian responded dryly. "Working I had hoped."

"Nah no one round here really needs my help."

"They do," Gillian insisted.

"Occasionally," Cal countered. "So I wrote instead."

Gillian looked at the book in her hands. "What am I doing with it?" She asked gently, already knowing the answer but looking for confirmation.

"I want you to read it," Cal told her. "First."

"Does your agent know about this?" Gillian raised her eyebrows slightly, and a hand, bringing it to rest on the cover sheet, over his name.

"Not yet. Actually," Cal stood again. "Wasn't sure I was gonna pass it on."

"Why not?" Gillian was surprised once more.

"Well you read it and see," Cal told her heading for the door.

**PJ**

Cal finished his teeth and rinsed his mouth out with water by scooping it from the running tap into his hand. He turned off the faucet and wiped his mouth and headed for the door, flipping out the light. Gillian was propped up in bed, his manuscript on her knees, her glasses perched on her nose. She'd ignored it for a few days, or not found the time to start, but within twenty-four hours she was hooked. She hadn't put it down since then. Which Cal supposed was a good thing. He could see by the weighting of the paper that she was practically finished. He got into bed beside her and leaned over to press a kiss against her temple. She gave him a half-hearted 'hm' but continued to read avidly.

That was probably a really good thing, when Cal thought about it, that she was so absorbed in the words; she knew how the story ended. He'd had no idea what he was supposed to be writing about before his accident. The first ten pages had sort of rambled on about nothing in particular and Cal couldn't work out from his notes what his point had been. They were written in a code he could no longer decipher. So he changed tact. The first ten pages had talked a bit about his past, so he went on. He talked about his past and his present, essentially telling the story of his life. But in a non-autobiographical way. He wasn't out to write a history, merely observations from his life. What he had learnt the hard way. What had inspired him to look into micro-expressions. What it meant to be a father. A good one. And a husband.

Which is why he wanted Gillian to read the book first. Because it was so personal. It wasn't just about him but her too and their kids. He didn't alter the truth but there were some things glossed over, and others not in any way. He wasn't even sure how Zoe or Emily would take it. There were things in there he wasn't entirely proud of doing. But the manuscript was more about how he had made up for those mistakes.

Cal grabbed the newspaper from his bedside table and also slipped his reading glasses on. He hardly ever got to read the paper. Mostly the news he got were information blurbs on his phone; snappy little updates about the really important things. There would probably come a day when newspapers went out of print. Cal hoped that wasn't in his lifetime. Reading the paper reminded him of his father, who would always go through the weekend edition on a Sunday morning at the breakfast table while eating marmalade toast and drinking milky tea. Before heading down to the pub.

Cal had just folded the paper into a readable section when Gillian practically launched herself at him, crushing his arms beneath her chest and crumpling the paper. He was about to complain when he realised she was hugging him awfully fiercely. He relaxed his grip on the paper, letting it go and tried to shift to hug his wife. She wasn't making it easy. Instead she pulled away and stared at him through her glasses and he could see she had tears in her eyes.

Uh oh.

Cal opened his mouth but Gillian beat him to words. "It was amazing."

Cal's eyebrows went up in surprise. He pulled his glasses off, not liking how they distorted her face. "It was so amazing," Gillian went on. "So." She stopped to search for the right word and Cal waited. But it seemed she couldn't and so her eyes met his again. "I really loved it." She wiggled a little to get closer and pressed a kiss against his lips before resting against his chest again. "You have such a way with words Cal."

"It was all right then?" Cal noted.

Gillian nodded. "Yeah," she agreed with meaning. "Are you going to send it to your agent?"

"I wasn't sure," Cal admitted. "She doesn't know I wrote it."

Gillian looked a little surprised at that. "Then why did you?"

He gave a shrug. "I found I'd started somethin' a while ago, before the accident. But I called my agent afta the accident, to tell her there might be a bit of a delay gettin' it, but she said I didn't have any books due so..."

"And she didn't infer that there...?"

"I guess not," Cal responded.

"Are you going to give it to her?"

Cal watched her for a moment, trying to deduce how his wife felt about that. She waited him out. "I'm not sure," Cal admitted.

"How come?"

"It's very... personal."

"It is," Gillian agreed slowly. "It's also incredibly insightful and so beautifully written."

Cal watched her again. Was she saying 'yes'? Was he even really asking for her permission? "What do you think?" Cal finally just asked directly.


	110. Chapter 110

Cal was actually slightly alarmed by the message he had received from his son that afternoon. Even though it didn't say anything else but: can we talk when you get home? Hollie's here. Lewis didn't send Cal texts that asked to talk. If he wanted to talk he would corner his father once he got home. So the text message its self was far outside of the norm and that meant Cal was worried. Lewis had picked a good day for a conversation though, one that was obviously going to be heavy handed; Gillian worked late on a Wednesday and Owen was at baseball practice; she would pick him up on her way home. So the house was quiet when Cal came in and when he reached the living room Lewis and Hollie were sitting on the loveseat, holding hands, looking distinctly worried and Cal immediately felt worse. He was preparing for 'not good' and he was confronted with 'terrible', and that was all because of a text message.

"Hi," he greeted, hoping he was sounding casual but concerned and not like he could possibly freak out.

"Hey Dad," Lewis responded warily, practically dispirited. Hollie remained quiet. They stood, still holding hands and Lewis indicated Cal should take a seat on the other couch, opposite them.

Worst case scenario: they had killed someone.

It could happen, Cal mused to himself. They could have hit someone with the car, though he did notice Lewis's was out the front. Or maybe… there was some sort of self-defence issue. Though Cal would hope Lewis would actually call him, then the cops and they'd be having this conversation a police station. He hoped Lewis wasn't going to ask him to help hide a body. That might just be the limit to his 'cool Dad' image. Cal took a seat, watching Hollie and Lewis alternatively. Hollie's car was out the front too actually. But that didn't rule out vehicular manslaughter in its entirety. Lewis's friends had cars.

Second worse: they had been kicked out of school.

Lewis had admitted he knew kids who smoked weed and sometimes kids did stupid shit. All it took was a moment. Cal had. He'd smoked stuff in school and who was to say his own son wouldn't at least try it? For all Cal knew, Emily might have back in her day. That would mean… well it would hurt Lewis's chances for MIT if they had been busted and Cal liked Hollie well enough and all, but if she was leading him astray he would come down so hard on both of them.

"So what's goin' on?" Cal asked once he was settled. They took their seats too. Hollie refused to meet his eye and he knew it was her. He wasn't going to yell, he promised himself. He wouldn't yell, he would politely ask her to leave.

"Don't get mad," Lewis started, which was a really bad opening line.

"Lew," Cal started.

"Promise you won't yell," Lewis insisted.

Cal sighed. "I won't," he promised. "Whateva it is I'll hear you out," Cal assured. Now that he was prepared he felt a little better… and Lewis was a good kid. He didn't get into trouble. He often kept his head down and focussed on what was expected of him. So it couldn't be that bad could it? It was probably something of nothing and Lewis was just blowing out of proportion.

"Um," Lewis started and Cal watched his hand tighten on his girlfriend's. "Hollie's pregnant."

Cal sat still, watching. Waiting for his heart to start beating again. Pregnant. That… and the… Lewis looked over at him, his blue eyes begging.

"We were careful Dad I swear. Every time. We don't know how it happened."

Cal felt the skin of his face start to tingle. Pregnant. Fuck. In. Hell. They were barely half way through seventeen. And pregnant. And… He cleared his throat, felt the blood start to stir in his lips again. He opened his mouth. Hollie was staring pointedly at the ground and Lewis looked incredibly upset. "Hooow," Cal started. "When," he settled on. And then stopped. "Hang on," he raised a hand, feeling sick in the back of his throat and panic in his stomach. Pregnant. Fuckity, fucking, who was freaking yanking his chain this time? "When?" He tried again. Lewis opened his mouth to answer and Cal quickly cut him off. "I don't want to know when, I mean, when are you due? When's the baby due?" Because they might at least get out of high school first. They were so close.

"Uh," Lewis looked sheepish. "We don't actually know."

"The docta didn't say?" Cal asked incredulously.

"Oh, uh, well, we haven't been to a doctor," Lewis admitted. "We took one of those home tests," he added tentatively.

"Right," Cal confirmed he had heard clearly. Mostly for his own sake. Words seemed quite difficult to process right now. And thoughts. And logic. "Ok. And? What did that test say?" He asked slowly because it seemed quite difficult to also speak right now. His chest felt tight like someone had a vice grip around it.

"There was a line," Lewis answered.

"Ok." Cal stopped and blinked. He was reaching for something, reaching, and what was it? Oh yeah. "Those home tests, they're not a hundred per cent. You should really get a blood test to confirm." They could be all freaking out over absolutely nothing. And this should have been number two on the list of worst case scenario. Cal felt relief rush through him for a second and he sat back against the couch. The room was incredibly quiet. Cal just noticed it. Usually there was something in the background, the hum of other people or the outside world but perhaps everything was waiting with baited breath. It seemed Lewis and Hollie were. They were waiting for Cal to take control of this and he conceded that in some ways, while they seemed grown up and adult like and were generally responsible, they were also just kids.

"You have a docta?" Cal directed to Hollie. She nodded. "Make an appointment luv, as soon as you can. Lew you'll go with her." It sounded a bit like a question, but it wasn't.

"We can go tomorrow," Lewis murmured to his girlfriend and she nodded. She still looked scared and she would not even glance up.

Cal realised he was gripping the edge of the arm of the couch too hard. His fingers had gone white. He let it go and shifted a little and took a deep breath. "Uh so, when did you? When did you find out?"

"Yesterday," Lewis admitted.

Oh so that was why he had been so weird. "Well then, thank you for tellin' me," Cal tried again to voice coherent thoughts. Gillian would applaud him for that; positive reinforcement parenting. Well, actually, she'd kick his ass merely for the fact that her baby was having a baby even if that wasn't Cal's fault; but she would applaud him for reinforcing to their teenager that it was ok to come and talk to his father and for not completely over reacting and isolating the kid further. "What did your parents say Hollie?"

"Oh we haven't told anyone else," Lewis answered for her. "We didn't really know what to do next." He looked at Cal again, his eyes frightful and pleading.

Cal felt a spike of fear himself, tapping into his son's. If there was anything he knew about having a baby, it was that it wasn't always so simple. False alarms abounded and pregnancy tests could be wrong. He gave Lewis a firm nod and leaned forward where he sat, determined all of a sudden. "You should really talk to your parents," Cal went on talking to Hollie despite the fact that she hadn't looked up and appeared to be trying to shrink in on herself. He suspected Lewis had suggested coming to talk to his father and that she hadn't wanted to.

"No way," Lewis exclaimed. "They'll kill us."

'_I might too_,' Cal thought.

"Well they're gonna find out eventually," Cal pointed out. "So it's betta comin' from you."

"Are you going to make me tell Mum?"

Oooh Cal hadn't thought about that. "I think that you should wait for the results before maybe talkin' to your Mum," Cal admitted. Because Gillian really _would_ flip out. "And Hollie's parents." He paused. That sounded like a good plan. "Let's just wait for the blood test results before we worry about anythin' else."

Lewis nodded and processed that information.

"All right Hollie luv?" Cal asked her softly. She looked up and met his eye. She gave a nod. Lewis gave her hand a squeeze. He wanted to ask how she was feeling but that was probably a redundant question. Like shit. Scared, no, terrified, by the look of it and relatively miserable and, well, if she thought she was pregnant, then she was probably feeling emotional or nauseous or something. Something like that would have warranted a home pregnancy test. Bloody hell.

Cal checked his watch. "You should probably head off before Gill gets home with Owen." Unless they felt like a confrontation with her right now too. He figured not.

Lewis stood quickly and pulled Hollie with him. "Thanks Dad." They rushed out of the room.

Cal also got to his feet. He had an insane notion to tell Hollie it would be ok. But what did he know? The teenagers headed out of the room and he sunk back to the couch feeling like the room was spinning. Twelve year old Owen was the one with so many girlfriends Cal couldn't keep track, or at least girls who liked him. He was the heartbreaker. He was the one who was reckless; so like his father. So how was it the sensible one was the one telling Cal he was going to be a granddad again? Cal sucked in a deep breath to stave off the nausea. Oh good lord. He was too old to be raising another baby. Lewis was mature and everything but wholly god would he really be able to cope with a baby? And what about school? And college? Cal was going to have to face Hollie's parents too. It was worse when it was their daughter. Ugh.

Cal heard Lewis come back and got to his feet. He was waiting for his son when he re-emerged from the hallway. The boy looked sheepish. "What the hell happened?" Cal started with more passion than he'd used when Hollie was in the room.

Lewis looked startled.

"You promised me you'd be careful!"

"We _were_ careful!"

"Geeze Lewis. Do you know what it means if she's pregnant? You'll have to leave school. You'll have to get a job and support your family."

Lewis looked shocked. "I know that Dad. We were careful every time. Paranoid to be honest," he looked away showing a little disgust.

Cal was prepared for more of an argument and when he was met with no resistance he suddenly deflated. He sat on the arm of the couch.

"Are you going to tell Mum?"

"No you're gonna tell her," Cal jabbed a finger at him, the anger not entirely gone, just his energy for a rant.

"Dad I'm sorry," Lewis looked suddenly miserable. "I don't know what happened. We used the condoms from school." He looked a little abashed. "And those ones you gave me," he added.

"Lewis," Cal started.

"I'm sorry Dad," Lewis tried again. "I don't know what to say."

Cal got up and crossed to where his son was standing by the breakfast bar. He put out his arms and Lewis stepped into them. He was about an inch taller than Cal but still, when he dropped his head to his father's shoulder and wrapped his arms around Cal's waist in a returning embrace, he felt much smaller. Cal smoothed a hand over his son's strong shoulder blades; he was still all skin and bone but now that he was seventeen, also muscle. He was a young man; a mini-adult. Cal pulled his son back so when he spoke Lewis could see his mouth. "It's all right," he told him sincerely. "Condoms aren't a hundred percent eitha."

"I always remembered to use them and they never broke," Lewis told him earnestly. "I made sure."

"And accidents happen," Cal finished. "It's all right Lew. We'll work it out."

"Please don't make me tell Mum. Not until we know either way."

"You make sure you go with Hollie for that blood test. I'll write you a note for school if you need it."

Lewis nodded. "I'm really scared Dad."

Cal could see. It was all over the poor kid's face. Cal pulled him in for another hug and felt worse for his boy. Badly for having a go at him but worse because his son was afraid and Cal would do anything he could to stop that. He wanted to protect his child but he also needed to prepare him for the worst. He needed to prepare _himself_ for the worst. And then he needed to prepare Gillian for the worst. He pulled Lewis away again to talk to him. "Look Lew, sometimes things happen. But I'll be here for you, every step of the way. And your Mum. For you and Hollie. You know that. All right?"

Lewis nodded. Cal heard the garage door start to go up. He signed to Lewis that he'd heard a car. Lewis looked stricken. Cal gave him a nudge. "Be cool," he commanded and Lewis nodded.


	111. Chapter 111

"So I said he'd have to do extra chores if he wanted one that badly and that we'd think about it," Gillian got into bed and sat while she took off her watch. "What do you think?"

Cal was staring at the wall while waiting for her. He wasn't listening, but he did notice she had gone quiet.

"Hello? Are you listening?"

"Hm?" Cal looked over at her. Expectant expression. Oh she had asked him something. "Uh sorry luv. What were you sayin'?" He fixed his face into focussed, interested listening.

"I was talking about Owen... All right what's with you? You've been distracted all evening."

Lewis had been pretty quiet too, but Lewis was always quiet.

"Uh," Cal started. He wasn't expecting the direct confrontation. He didn't have a lie prepared. What was he thinking? He should always have a lie prepared; he had got out of practice. No wait. That was the point. He wasn't in the habit of lying to his wife. And he had never lied to her to protect one of their kids. He and Gillian had an open policy. They didn't keep secrets from each other. He had almost made a big mistake. Thank god he had caught it in time. He could have totally killed his credibility.

"Cal?" Gillian prompted, her tone between careful and impatient.

Oh now he really was going to have to tell her. Gillian was right. He couldn't and shouldn't and wouldn't lie to her. Because she was his wife and because she was his best friend. He had almost hurt her feelings. Cal shifted so he was up on an elbow, facing her. "I should tell you somethin'," he started and Gillian scoffed a little as if that were obvious by now. "But. You can't say anythin' to anyone about it."

"Why what's going on?" Gillian asked concerned.

"It's," Cal started. Uh, no way was he going to be able to just blurt that out there. "Lewis," he finished lamely, his heart heavy once again as he thought about potential grandbabies and teenage pregnancies. It seemed so unreal but then they _were_ having sex. It couldn't be that much of a stretch of imagination could it? Sex equalled babies. That's technically what it was for. Everyone must have had an 'oh god, could I be?' moment. Surely.

"Lewis?" Gillian repeated. "I thought he was quieter than usual tonight. What did he do? Is he in trouble?" Gillian's gaze was suddenly unrelenting.

Cal took a deep breath. Had to keep going. "Not quite, yeah, actually, maybe?"

Gillian gave him a bizarre frown. "What? Is it school? Did he get involved in something he shouldn't have? Did the cops bring him home? Don't make me guess. I'm worried now."

"All right, promise me you won't get mad."

Gillian narrowed her eyes at him.

"And you have to promise that you will absolutely _not_ say anythin' to Lewis until he comes to you with it."

Gillian continued her death stare, to which Cal was immune.

"I promise he will come and tell you. I'll make him but you just have to wait for him."

Gillian's stare continued in the silence. Cal suspected she was weighing up his request. She was probably running through the worst case scenarios and how badly she would want to storm downstairs and yell at their eldest boy, compared to getting the insight from her husband. "Just tell me," Gillian responded, annoyed this time.

"Do you promise?" Cal pushed.

There was a long heavy silence and Cal could see she was still debating it. Finally she opened her mouth to speak and Cal was genuinely curious as to what she would say.

"Yes," she said quietly.

Cal felt a pang of guilt as he opened his mouth to blab. He hadn't really promised Lewis he'd say nothing but it still felt like a breach of confidence. Then again, Lewis had to know by now that whatever he told his father, Cal was more than likely to tell his wife. She was his wife after all. And his best friend. There was no getting around that. They were partners.

"Hollie might be pregnant," Cal told Gillian softly. He watched as her expression froze and her eyes went a little wider. That was probably exactly how he looked when Lewis had said the words to him.

"What?"

"Don't freak out too much," Cal told her while his gut churned. Easier said than done. He shifted closer, reaching out his hand to touch her, needing to ground himself, needing to ground her as well. It was better to tell, he decided. He needed someone to commiserate with. "She hasn't had a blood test yet. Just did one of them home tests and you and I both know those aren't always reliable."

Gillian stared at him agape. "He's seventeen!"

"I know that," Cal kept his voice purposefully soft, shifting to comfort mode right away. He noticed her arm was shaking. "And he's scared. Hollie's scared. They're just kids."

"Exactly they're just kids!" Gillian choked.

"Don't be mad at me," Cal urged gently.

"You told me you talked to him!"

"I did! A couple of times..."

"You were supposed to make him understand," Gillian's voice gained in volume as she got more wound up, as the news sunk in more.

"I did," Cal repeated, shifting so he was sitting completely. He reached out both arms to embrace her but she shoved him away, and as always, it hurt when she did it. Didn't she realise he needed her too? "I did and he promised me Gill, they were safe every time."

Gillian rolled her eyes. "Well obviously they weren't."

"Don't think the worse," Cal chided her gently. "That's our son. If he said he did somethin', you know he did. Condoms aren't a failsafe. They're a damn site betta than nothin' but..."

"Then they shouldn't have been having sex."

"Oh come on!" Cal exclaimed. "You think any talk from eitha of us was gonna stop him? It was betta this way. He came to me and talked to me about it. I gave him protection. He's come to me now, again. This is the best way."

"The best way?" Gillian asked him in disbelief.

Cal gave a little sigh. She was processing. That was all. He had to remember that. It wasn't personal. "It's betta that he came to us. What if she _is_ pregnant and we found out about it four months down the line? At least now we know, right from the start. We can get involved straight away."

Gillian stared at him for a moment. "Are you suggesting?"

Cal waited for her to go on but she didn't and he felt dense. "Suggestin' what?"

"She gets rid of it?" Gillian's tone was almost conspiratorial.

"No," Cal responded sharply. "No not at all. That's not what I meant. I meant, we're there from day one. For _our_ son. And for _our_ grandkid. Isn't that the way you would ratha it be? Or would you like to just kick him out of home now?" His tone went low because if it came down to that then Gillian was going to put him in one hell of a position. She would be forcing him to choose, his son or his wife. And god his loyalty to Gillian was so strong but he wasn't sure he could do that to Lewis. Or any of his kids.

"Geeze," Gillian slumped suddenly. She gave him an annoyed expression. "I didn't mean it like that."

"All right," Cal reached out to thread his fingers through hers. Her hands were cold and she fell into him so her head was resting against his shoulder. Better... "It's not ideal and it's scary as shit but... I don't know what else to do but be there for him. This is Lew we're talkin' about. He's _our_ _son_."

"I know," Gillian replied softly.

They were silent.

"Then there's..."

"What?" Cal prompted. What else was there?

"It might not be Lewis's."

Cal went still and the room went silent. "What?"

Gillian pulled back. "Yes, I know I'm a bitch for thinking it but... if Lewis swears they were careful every time who's to say that maybe, I don't know," she gave a half shrug. "Maybe it's not Lewis who's the father."

"Jesus," Cal muttered.

Gillian covered her face with her hands. "Yes I know. I'm awful."

'_Well there was that_,' Cal thought. And then there was worse: she could be right. Because he believed in Lewis but he didn't actually know Hollie that well, and he wasn't accusing her, neither was Gillian, but who's to say she didn't sleep with other boys? Oh god this whole thing could just get so freaking complicated.

Gillian smoothed her fingers down her face and observed her husband for a moment. "He's just a baby."

"He's a young man," Cal countered softly.

Gillian sighed. "I hoped to be at least seventy before I became a Gramma officially."

Cal gave a little smile, thinking of little Ethan and how much Gillian doted on him; how much she _was_ his other Grandmother even if she felt weird about claiming the title. "And I had hoped for sixty before I became a grandfather in the first place, but we don't always get what we want."

Gillian gave him another annoyed glare but it was less intense than the ones before and Cal got the distinct impression she was trying not to smile. "Oh god," she groaned. "What are we going to do?" Her blue eyes pleaded with him, much like Lewis's had that afternoon.

"Not freak out," Cal started. Which is pretty much what he'd been telling himself since Lewis uttered the word 'pregnant'.

"Oh god Hollie's parents," Gillian groaned again, hanging her head and falling forward again, so her head was resting against Cal's shoulder once more.

"Don't know yet," Cal finished. He gave her fingers a squeeze. "Just like you don't know eitha. So... you know... don't act weird around Lewis tomorrow."

Gillian brought her head up to meet his gaze. "How am I meant to do that?"

"Pretend your cute little ass off," Cal deadpanned. Gillian's eyes filled with sorrow and Cal almost felt the need to cry. He so wanted to fix this for her and for Lewis. "Try?" Cal offered instead.

"I'm glad you told me though."

"Can't keep secrets from you," Cal admitted. He was glad he'd told her. He didn't really want to deal on his own, and she was his best friend, the first person he wanted to run to at the end of the day to tell her all that happened to him. Lewis was just going to have to forgive him this one.

Gillian gave a slight laugh. It was forced and less of a smile and more like a softening of her eyes. "That's a good thing."

"For you yeah, I broke our kid's confidence," Cal sighed.

Sort of. Maybe.

"Why am I not allowed knowing?" Gillian asked quietly.

"Because I said he had to tell you himself and he wanted to do it when he officially knows whetha he's gonna be a Daddy or not and I wasn't gonna do it for him."

"So much for that," Gillian mused. "And don't say that again."

"What?" Cal asked confused.

"Lewis being a Daddy. That's not right. Not yet."

"Agreed."


	112. Chapter 112

It was brilliantly sunny. And so it should be. Because today was the day Lewis graduated high school. The world should be celebrating. Cal's wee boy was actually a grown-up man now and he was headed off to college to study electrical engineering and it felt a bit unfair, that Cal only got him for a third of his life; a mere blip on the radar. Cal wanted more time; that would be fantastic. Lewis was a great guy and Cal enjoyed being with him very much. He was proud, of course he was proud, that Lewis was graduating (second in his class too!) but he was also sad. He was going to miss the munchkin. This was much harder than saying goodbye to Emily had been. Which was a terrible thing to think or say about his kids but really... it was the truth.

And this was just his graduation. Cal didn't actually have to say goodbye yet.

Owen was currently still in class, which left Cal and Gillian to sit together amongst the crowd of parents as they fare-welled the senior class. There was no boyfriend to have to make small talk with and no ex-wife for some awkward moments. It was just the two of them. And it suddenly struck Cal that in five years when Owen finished school too, then it really would just be the two of them. Whoa.

"Can you believe this?" Gillian murmured against Cal's ear, keeping her voice down because a speech was being made by the school's principal. Her hand slid into the slight gap between his back and chair and when there wasn't naturally room for her fingers there, she made it. Cal turned to look at her. "He's grown up," she added.

It was easy to spot Lewis in the crowd. Even though he didn't wear hearing aids on the tops of his ears anymore, not now that his ears had actually stopped growing and he had upgraded to a much more sophisticated smaller model that nestled inside the cone of his ear, he had picked the brightest red he could find, so that when he turned his head they glinted in the sunlight. He wasn't ashamed of his hearing aids anymore. He loved them. He loved that they made him different and they made him popular. Or they helped make him popular. Lewis was popular anyway.

Cal took his wife's other hand, her left. The new diamond ring on her third finger also caught the sunlight and sparkled. Cal loved that while his munchkin, his wee man, his baby boy, had grown up and was leaving home to go to university, his wife would still be there. After twenty years of marriage he was more than secure with knowing his wife would always be there. "It's not so hard to believe," Cal told her and she raised an eyebrow imperceptibly to encourage him to explain what he meant. "Lewis has been right here for a while now." Gillian's expression was pensive. "It's you and me that probably weren't quite ready." Her expression softened again and spread into a smile, her way of agreeing with him. Cal pressed a kiss against her forehead and caught the scent of her shampoo for a second before he pulled away again.

"I might cry," Cal suddenly added, turning to check on Lewis again, who was busy talking away through the speech without even having to open his mouth and make a sound. Cheeky little git. "Just thought I should warn you," Cal went on.

"I brought tissues," Gillian responded and she didn't even sound like she was teasing, but Cal knew that deadpan tone so well by now. Oh how she indulged him, how she played along. Brilliant.

Cal shifted his arm to put around Gillian's shoulders and she leaned further into him. He took her left hand with his right on this occasion and she brushed her thumb against the back of his hand a few times. They went back to listening to the speech, which Cal readily admitted was boring. At one point Lewis turned around and started searching the crowd. He had gotten much more like his brother in the last few years; more extroverted and taking life less seriously (without the carelessness Owen sometimes exhibited). After the pregnancy scare of a few months ago, and it _was_ a scare, Hollie's blood test had come back negative (and oh the relief of that!), Lewis had really loosened up. Cal supposed he couldn't blame him really. The kid had dodged a bullet. They all had.

It had been a seriously tense week while they waited for the results. Lewis fretted and Cal felt like his heart was borderline for a seizure at any moment. Gillian wasn't even supposed to know so that added a whole other weird kind of dimension to the situation and every night before she and Cal fell into fitful sleep, they made plans. Thank goodness it turned out they had all stressed over nothing.

Cal raised his hand from Gillian's to wave at his son, who was still looking around. The movement caught Lewis's eye and he waved back with a grin. Then he signed 'how' and pointed in their direction. Cal gave him a 'thumbs up' and caught Gillian doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Lewis gave a bigger grin and gave 'a thumbs' up as well; he was well excited to be finishing with high school. Then he turned around again.

Lightman was right in the middle of the alphabet which was perfect for boredom levels, even though there were an unprecedented number of kids in Lewis's class with a surname beginning with 'T'. So Cal kept himself entertained by tracing letters on the inside of his wife's palm and she would guess what he was saying by signing the answer to him. Seriously, learning to sign was the best boredom buster Cal had ever come across. It was far less rude than playing games on his phone and much more subtle. That was also true of having a sleep. And going for a walk. Of course, the signing did work better with a friend to play with.

And once it was over and the valedictorian had made his speech and all the graduates had thrown their caps to the air with a great cheer, and there was applause and everyone had their diplomas, Cal and Gillian waited for Lewis to find them at their pre-designated meeting place. The sun was warm but not uncomfortable and in a rare moment Cal was actually enjoying it. He felt a little strange, like how he felt when he was depressed, and it had been so long since he'd felt that way he almost didn't want to believe it. But his son had just graduated high school and so that wasn't something to be depressed about; that was something to feel really good about. Cal was hanging on to Gillian for dear life. He hadn't cried after all but Gillian had, and there was that compounded feeling of wanting to make everything ok for his wife again and feeling like he was slowly losing his grip. He couldn't. Lewis would leave. Why was this so hard?

**PJ**

Gillian's hand smoothed through the hair at Cal's temple as they lay in the dark. That was the good side of his head, the side without the scar, and it also happened to be the side of his head exposed as he lay against his pillow in the middle of the bed and Gillian lay next to him, in mirror image, their torsos pressed together in an embrace, arms holding gently. "How are you doing?" Gillian murmured.

"I don't know," Cal admitted. "It's not goodbye yet but it feels like a really big door is closin'."

"It is," Gillian admitted.

"Yeah," Cal sighed a little. "How are you doin'?"

"I want to cry. But you're right, it's not goodbye yet."

They had the entire summer together before Lewis would get on a plane to Massachusetts.

Cal gave a pout in the dark that Gillian didn't see but her hand trailed down the edge of his face to cup around his cheek and jaw and she must have known. "It's not forever," she noted.

"No," Cal agreed.

"And we can go up and visit. You can go and visit."

"Yeah I know. I'm just gonna miss him."

"Me too," Gillian agreed.

"Havin' him around all the time. Askin' those probin' questions."

Gillian gave a little laugh.

"And you know I'm not even worried about him goin'?"

"You taught him well. He's happy and confident and excited to learn."

"Yeah," Cal agreed and actually, yeah, he had done a good job this time. No, _they_ had done a good job with Lewis. He was a smart responsible young man. That wasn't to say he wasn't going to go up to Massachusetts and go to parties, he probably would. But Cal knew he would be smart about it. He'd still study. He knew an opportunity when he saw one and he knew getting into MIT was a big deal, not something to be wasted. Lewis wanted the most out of life and he had an admirable way of balancing out the fun with the serious. He knew when to put his head down and study his ass off and yet he still managed to go out with his friends. A part of Cal actually wished he was like Lewis. Or that he had been like Lewis when he was the same age.

"I can feel your brain processing away," Gillian murmured. Her hand moved to press against his skull for a moment before it shifted to snake under his arm so she could embrace him.

"I'm thinkin' about your son. What a good man he turned out to be."

"Your son," Gillian retorted softly. She gave him a fierce hug then loosened off again. "My baby," she pouted. "I don't want him to go," she complained.

"Can't keep him here foreva," Cal pointed out.

"Why does he have to go so far away?"

"Cos he's brilliant and got into the best school for his chosen career."

"Oh that," Gillian sighed.

"Yep that," Cal agreed. MIT was all Lewis's idea. He suddenly decided at fifteen that he was going to study electronics, which had moved into electrical engineering and he had applied for all the best colleges. He had got into quite a few of them too, but his main focus had been MIT and he had got in there much to his delight. Lewis had really blossomed in the last few years. He was nice to be around. That was why he was so popular at school, amongst his friends.

"Can we congratulate ourselves for a job well done?" Cal asked.

"Hm," Gillian mused but she didn't sound entirely light-hearted. She cleared her throat and Cal wondered if she was upset. He couldn't sense her crying, no tell-tale breath holding, shaking, sudden temperature rises or subtle tear wipes. "I think we should wait for college to be over. You never know. He might fall off the rails completely."

"O ye of little faith," Cal accused.

"You can't honestly tell me you can look back on your years at college and tell me you were a saint the entire time."

"No I wasn't," Cal easily admitted. "Wasn't even a saint from day one. But we're not talkin' about me. We're more likely talkin' about you."

Gillian hmphed to that.

"Was there eva a time when you thought you might not graduate?"

"No but I could put up my hand now and say that there were times back then where I might have fallen off the rails a little."

"Mitigatin' circumstances," Cal appeased, referring to the problems she'd had with the lingering legacy of her father. "Lewis doesn't have those. At least, I hope he doesn't have those," he added quickly. There were circumstances there, from when Lewis was very little, but Cal hoped they had been largely forgotten and ineffective.

Gillian's fingers dug into the back of his kidney a little. "No," she agreed. "Lewis is happy and adjusted."

"That's what I tell myself too."

"I think he's ok," Gillian mused. There was a slight pause. "I'm going to ask him."

Cal gave a chuckle. "What's he gonna say to that? No Mum I'm a complete fuck up?"

Gillian pushed against his waist to half roll him away, then pulled him close against her again. "I don't know. Doesn't every parent feel like they did a good job?"

"I suppose they do," Cal agreed. "Or at least the ones that live in denial do."

"You're mean."

"I'm answerin' a serious question with a serious ansa," Cal countered. "There are heaps of parents out there that figa they did the best they could and that should be good enough. Or they hope for the best. I should know, cos that's how I used to be. Unconscious parentin'. And then I had children with you and suddenly it was all about doin' what was best for the kid and bein' aware of stuff and actively parentin' and payin' attention and listenin' to them and gently nudgin'... Readin' books and articles and all sorts of touchy feely stuff," he let his tone go purposefully between disbelieving and complaint. Cal shifted his head to kiss her, soft and sweet. "You did a good job."

"You did a good job," Gillian murmured back, her hand in his hair again.

"I was mere support crew to a bang up first class act."

Gillian laughed and Cal grinned even though it was dark and kissed her again. "Give yourself more credit. You did a lot more than you seem to think."

"Hm," Cal started to object.

"No, I demand it," Gillian insisted, but her hand was soft against him and her tone didn't quite have the edge of anger.

"I cave, I cave," Cal whispered and she kissed him again. He was pleased she seemed to think so highly of his parenting skills. High praise when it came from Gillian. He was right when he said she had made him pay attention to being a parent to his sons and as a result he actually really enjoyed both of the boys; bright Lewis and mischievous Owen. Not to say Owen wasn't also bright and Lewis mischievous. Cal had tried this time around, really tried and he wanted to say that he thought he did a good job. He was, at least, proud of all of his children. Only this time could he feel responsible for two thirds of them.

Gillian gave a little hum and wrapped her arm around her husband's neck, keeping him nice and secure against her. Comforting. Grounding. And humble too it seemed. He always felt like he could do more, be better. Which was nice, but sometimes he just didn't see how far he had really come. He was only an arrogant prick at work, which was apparently just a front or a strong confidence in something that no one else had. It was his science after all; he was the pioneer. He had to believe in it when no one else would otherwise it would have never come to fruition. Gillian shifted to press a kiss against the side of his head. "I love you."

"I love you too," Cal's voice came in the darkness immediately.

There was a light tap at their bedroom door and it cracked open. And then a little bit more until a shaggy brown head appeared in the light created in the hallway overhead. "Are you awake?" Lewis asked in a stage whisper.

"Yeah buddy," Cal leaned up on a hand so Lewis could see him, in case he hadn't heard him, moving away from Gillian.

"Oh cool. Just letting you know I'm home now." He moved his grouped fingers from by his mouth closer to his ear.

"Thanks," Cal told him.

"Did you have a good time?" Gillian asked. She used 'fun'.

"Yeah it was cool," Lewis agreed.

"Goodnight," Gillian said next.

"Night. Love you guys." Lewis formed the 'ILY' sign.

"Love you too luv," Cal responded while Gillian said good night as well. The door closed softly again and the light went out and Gillian was blinded once more, her eyes having to readjust to the change in light. They could hear Lewis go down the stairs to his room in the front of the house, because the third step down had a squeak. That was handy for any sneaking around. Cal lay down again, on his back this time, and Gillian leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, her hand over his heart. "Your son," Cal murmured.

Gillian smiled. "Yours," she retorted.


	113. Chapter 113

Cal was really good at kissing. Really good. And he was so very good at playing games with her. They'd had marathon make-out sessions that had completely wound her up while he barely seemed bothered. She should be offended, she knew that, she wanted to be able to drive him wild too, but actually she suspected he was toying with her on purpose in that kind of instance, showing her he wasn't just with her in the moment to get off himself, but to make her feel wonderful, which he did seemingly effortlessly. And she also suspected it was his way of gloating that his self-control was on an impressive level. It was.

His hands were warm at her back, the wide expanse of them obvious through the thin satin of her negligee. She could feel each of his fingers and his palms, a little damp. She was kissing him as she sat across his thighs, his bare chest the perfect resting point for her hands, his skin still warm as they wound down. Gillian worshipped his mouth reverently. She loved him and it made warmth flood through her. It was one thing to work it out, to know, and it was another to admit it to herself, let alone out loud. She loved him.

Cal's hands shifted down a little, further into the small of her back and Gillian shifted her hand to pet at the hair at the base of his skull, where it was soft. She gave a little hum and felt Cal's lips move into a smile. She broke away, smiling down at him herself. He looked slightly up at her, his blue eyes dark in the dim light and with a fading arousal. So many beautiful smiles for her these days and it was so, so nice. Just so content and sweet and... yeah.

"I like this," Cal told her, shifting a hand to the edge of the hem of her negligee, high on her thigh. It was black, satin, lace trim...

Gillian gave a pleased smile, and not just because he was being appreciative, but because he was actually telling her about it. Not a big talker Cal, surprisingly, in the bedroom, or really about other things either, now that she thought about it. They hadn't had deep and meaningful conversations about them or their relationship or where they were headed and a part of her was honestly too afraid to bring it up first. She felt it would be better to let it just run its course. At least for a while. See where it went.

"Yeah?" She leaned in to kiss him again, soft, slow kisses as if she had all the time in the world. It felt like she had all the time in the world with him. Forever. Except she shouldn't think like that. She knew that forever didn't really mean forever. Maybe that was why she didn't want to talk about it, put a label on it, put pressure on it, on them.

"Yeah," Cal agreed.

"Hm," Gillian hummed again, pressing her lips against his.

"You're beautiful Gill," Cal looked up at her again.

She smiled, how could she not? "Thank you." She smoothed the hair at the back of his head again, sliding her fingers around his skull where it was resting against the wall as he sat up against it. She pressed a kiss against his forehead, then his nose, his mouth again. Cal didn't push her away or dismiss her or tell her she was being annoying and it felt so good. So. Damn. Good.

They heard the front door at the same time and Gillian felt a little coldness counter the warmth of sitting in Cal's lap. Emily was home. Which meant that... well they had already had sex but it meant they weren't likely to go again. She was fine with that, she really was, because she'd rather not think about Cal's daughter being able to hear them having sex through the wall. They were quiet as they listened, probably both wondering whether it was Emily who had come in and if she was going straight to bed. Cal shifted slightly to see the clock on his bedside table and his movement suitably dislodged Gillian to slide from sitting on his legs.

Then there was a tentative knock at the door. "Uh Dad?" Emily called, but softly, cautiously.

"Yeah?" Cal yelled back.

"Oh. I'm home!"

"All right. Night luv."

"Night Dad. Love you."

"You too darlin'!"

There was a pause and Cal started to turn so he could lean over Gillian again, that mischievous look in his eye, like he was going to make her squirm but dare her to be quiet about it.

"Good night Gillian!" Emily added.

"Good night," Gillian called back.

Cal watched her face carefully, saw the small amount of pride and happiness at being included. They heard Emily's bedroom door close and she had probably done it on purpose, so they would be aware of where she was in the house. Sometimes she stomped past on her way to the bathroom so they were aware she was skulking about the house. It had taken a wee bit of adjusting for Gillian, not in the sense that it was weird to head into the kitchen for breakfast in the morning and find Emily there, that wasn't weird, it was weird to know she was sleeping in the young woman's father's bed, while the young woman was in the room next to them.

Cal leaned down to press his lips against Gillian's neck and she tilted her head away to give him a bit more room before realising she was encouraging him. "Cal," she warned, bringing a hand to his bare shoulder to push a little. He moved back and watched her, waiting for her to say whatever it was she wanted to say. She liked that he listened. That was nice too. "Don't," she started and he gave a sudden smirk and she gave a little laugh. He knew exactly what she was going to say.

"I know," he murmured. "Don't leave a mark."

"And?" Gillian prompted.

"And keep it tame while Em's in the house," he recited.

Gillian gave him a little pleased laugh. "I've trained you so well," she teased.

Cal hung his head a little. "Slightly beaten down, but not completely whipped yet," he gave her a grin and shifted the hip he was leaning on closer to her. "Not yet," he added before leaning down to give her a kiss.

"You?" Gillian asked, a little breathlessly as he pulled away. "Whipped?" She paused for impact. "Never."


	114. Chapter 114

"Hi Dad," Emily greeted shifting her toddler on her hip while the baby bag started to slide from her shoulder. Cal stepped in quickly to grab it and she let him take it without insisting that she could do it on her own. Emily was not afraid to ask for help. He had no idea where she got that from. Both he and Zoe were stubborn through and through.

"So how are you?" Cal asked, letting her come into the house. She had a key but she always knocked.

"I'm good. Tired," she gave a slight self-depreciating expression. "Running around after this guy."

"And how are you Ethan?" Cal asked as they headed further into the house. The boy had dark brown hair, a round face and the wide round, light brown eyes of his mother. He looked a bit like a cherub angel but Cal knew for a fact he was a typical boy, running, climbing, destroying.  
>Ethan buried his head into his mother's neck. Emily laughed. "Oh so now you've gone all quiet."<p>

In the kitchen, Gillian turned from the bench, where she had made coffee. The boys were either out at some sporting practice or a friends 'studying'. Or just out of the house for a while on a Saturday. Gillian approached where Emily was standing. "Hi Em," she greeted and then her attention was immediately on the dark haired little boy. "Hi Ethan." She gave his wrist a little shake.

"Can I have a kiss?" Cal asked, stepping in closer.

Ethan shook his head.

Everyone laughed and he looked a little surprised, but still determined.

"How about a hug for Poppop?" Cal asked instead.

Ethan went to shake his head again but apparently changed his mind. He reached out his arms and Cal smiled and took him. "Aww thank you," he cooed giving the baby a squeeze. Gillian asked how Emily was and she replied she was fine. She asked how Gillian was and Gillian replied she was fine. "How about that kiss now?" Cal went on.

"Kiss for Pop Pop," Ethan responded, leaning forward to press his wet mouth against his grandfather's cheek. When he pulled back he made a smacking sound.

"Thank you," Cal smiled warmly, fighting the urge to wipe the drool from his face.

"Now Gramma," Ethan turned to Gillian. There was one thing Cal and Emily were united on when it came to Ethan, and it was that he had three grandmothers and two grandfathers. Zoe was Gandma (Grandma) and Cal was Pop while Ajay's parents were Old Ma and Old Pa. Which really helped cut down on any confusion. And Gillian was Gramma (Grandma).

Ethan threw out his arms towards Cal's wife so he let him go. Gillian took him with a delighted kind of noise and a smile and then: "Wow you're getting so big!"

Ethan wrapped his arms around her and gave her the same wet mess of a kiss, smacking his lips together after wards, his face expressive and smiling, pleased with himself. Gillian thanked him and gave him another squeezing hug. She headed to the couch with the boy adding absently that there was coffee.

"Did you bring a crowbar?" Cal turned to his daughter.

Emily gave a laugh. "No I was just going to sneak out the front and leave him."

"I know where you live," Cal told her in a low voice. They retrieved coffee and went to sit on the couches too.

Gillian was a little awkward about being called Grandma as well, despite Cal assuring her that not only had she helped raise his daughter, albeit from a slight distance, but that she was part of the family _and_ that Emily would want it that way. But as always, she was worried about stepping on Zoe's toes which Cal thought was just ridiculous. They'd been married longer than he and Zoe had been and longer than Gillian and Alec had. They had fifteen years in total now; when was she going to learn that she was Emily's family too?

Emily asked where her brothers were. They liked Ethan a lot more now they were actually able to play with him. "I have no idea," Cal answered.

"Owen is at the batting cages with his friends and Lewis went to the movies," Gillian answered. Just went to show how much Cal knew. Where did he get studying from? Ethan squirmed his way free and got to the floor, sliding backwards down the couch, watching Gillian to see if he had escaped unnoticed and whether she was going to tell him off or not.

Cal was sitting on the two-seater at a right angle to his wife and he _was_ watching his grandson while the two women talked. "Ethan," Cal got his attention. "Want to have a book with Pop?" He signed 'book' and pointed to himself. Ethan pointed to himself. Cal nodded 'yes'. "You go get a book." The kid knew where the books lived and Cal didn't really get a lot of enjoyment listening to two women talking about diaper rashes and developmental milestones. He gave a toss when it was his own kids. And he did care about his grandson too. But he would get the highlights later. Right now he wanted to read with the boy. Ethan shuffled his way along the couch and reached the books. He went to grab one but they were so stuffed in the shelf it wouldn't budge no matter how hard he tugged. Cal gave a little chuckle and got up to help.

He sat at the edge of the couch next to the bookcase. "I'll help you?" He asked, placing his right fist into the palm of his left hand and moving them both towards Ethan.

"Stuck," he noted. "Real stuck."

"Yeah there's too many," Cal agreed. "This one?" He pointed to one book in particular and Ethan nodded. Cal eased it out and pulled it free and gave it to the boy. Ethan snatched so Cal kept his grip on it, easily stronger than the nearly two year old. Ethan looked up at him, brown eyes wide. "Thank you?" Cal tried. He brought his fingers from his mouth forward, all pointing upwards.

"Fank you," Ethan responded moving his hand up to his mouth and then towards his grandfather. Cal let the book go and Ethan immediately shoved it towards him again. "You read."

"Climb up buddy," Cal took the book and held it out of the way while Ethan pulled himself up Cal's legs. Cal helped him a bit and he settled in his grandfather's lap, his head resting against Cal's sternum. Cal lowered the book and opened the cover. Farm animals. This had been one of Lewis's favourite books around the same age. That was probably because of the new fascinating noises he had discovered animals made when he'd gotten his hearing aids.

Cal managed to read four more books before they were interrupted. Each time Ethan climbed down and selected one off the shelf that Cal had to pry free. Even with four removed from the group the pressure was still too great for the toddler's little muscles. At least Cal was keeping the kid entertained enough to let his mother have a break. And then the front door slammed and everyone was distracted for a moment.

"Hi Mum I'm home!" Owen hollered from the hallway. He rushed into the room and stopped up short. All the adults were looking at him. "Oh hi Emmy," Owen greeted. He went over dutifully to hug his big sister. Ethan pushed himself out of Cal's lap and to the couch cushion next to them.

"Did you have a good time?" Gillian asked her eight year old.

"Yep," Owen nodded.

"Wen!" Ethan exclaimed throwing himself to the floor. Owen turned to see the toddler and his face brightened a little more.

"No rough play," Cal warned.

"Dad," Owen complained. "That was one time."

"Yeah well," Cal went on. It still scared him. Children were breakable and Owen didn't realise that. He didn't even realise that about himself. He thought it was funny to take a ball from the pitching machine in his butt cheek. He wasn't laughing so much when it hurt so badly he couldn't sit down for several days without some serious agony.

Owen took Ethan upstairs and Cal felt a little pang. Now his reading buddy was gone he was going to have to actually pay attention to the conversation. He just hoped they weren't talking about lactating. That was the lowest point of all conversations combined. Wait, what was that about having another kid?


	115. Chapter 115

Now that Cal was teaching he actually had homework he had to do himself. Which meant he had moved in on Gillian's desk, much to her dismay, in the 'adult' lounge, because he needed somewhere to work at home and she wouldn't take kindly to him domineering the table they ate at. It was a little different from when Lewis was a baby and they never ate there anyway. Cal was marking assignments. And it was mind numbing. So when a figure appeared in the door way he was almost relieved for the distraction. It was Lewis. He was getting taller by the week at the moment, and eating in direct positive correlation.

"Hey Dad," Lewis greeted, his hand by his forehead.

"What's up Lew?" Cal turned in his chair a little to give his son his attention.

"Are you busy?"

"I'm always busy darlin', but I'll spare you some of my time."

Lewis gave a slight eye roll but sat in the seat his mother used on her side of the table. In compromise, they'd brought in the old dining room table Cal used to use as a desk in their old house, that had not found a place in their new home when they'd moved, and which up until a few months ago, been stored in the garage.

"So what's up?" Cal asked again.

Lewis shook the hair from his eyes. Now that his hair was longer again, the curls were back. He looked like a surfer, even though he didn't see the ocean on a regular basis. He did skate though. Maybe Cal should describe him as a skater boy.

"I was wondering how you get a girl to..." He hesitated and then seemed to think about what he wanted to say. "_You know_..." He looked reluctant and unsure and Cal was focussing too much on the resistance in his body language. Then he suddenly heard the words, what Lewis was _implying_ and his attention was suddenly brought back to a sharp focus. Lewis didn't quite meet his eyes but he was pretty sure he knew what his son was talking about. Pretty sure. He was still going to need confirmation. No need to have a bloody awkward conversation without being sure he needed to have it in the first place. So Cal waited and after a short while Lewis did look up and met his father's eye and added. "When you're having sex."

"Oh," Cal responded first, a little surprise. He shouldn't be. Lewis was the direct type. He gave a little laugh. Lewis looked surprised now, then quickly went to annoyed. "Sorry. It's just... you caught me off guard."

"I wasn't sure how to subtly lead into the conversation," Lewis muttered, using his hands to speak clearly.

"Right," Cal agreed. This was his fault. He'd always encouraged direct conversation. And answering questions even if they were... uncomfortable. "Right yeah ok, serious conversation," Cal recovered himself. He gave a slight frown. How was he going to answer this one? Draw him a diagram? How much detail was he really going to give? Cal wasn't sure he really wanted to map it out for Lewis. It was... a process... figuring out women and it was one of those processes a young man had to go through himself. Otherwise, it wouldn't have the same impact. Plus every girl was different and every guy was different. But if it was a toss-up between Lewis coming to talk to his father about sex, and one of his immature friends, then Cal would rather it was him. He took a steadying breath and began.

"Well... the thing to remember is that girls... they're, sex is _more_ for them. It takes more for them to," he gave a little pushing of his hand. "Get there, than it does for guys. You know? You see a pretty girl walk by and you think about her and you're pretty much ready," Cal gave an encouraging nod to say he knew exactly what he was talking about. He did. Been there, done that. "But for girls it takes a lot more so you have to be more patient and willin' and, uh, you have to try harda." He paused and looked at his son who was watching him avidly. But silently. Cal wondered if Lewis was asking for a specific reason. He was seventeen... with a steady girlfriend... and they'd been together nearly two years... it wasn't entirely unreasonable to assume.

"Get her to tell you," Cal went on. "When you were younga and figurin' out..." he hesitated. Awkward. He plunged on. "Yourself and what kind of things felt good for you, you know? You figa-ed out whetha you liked it fast or slow or whateva." He so hoped Lewis wasn't going to suddenly volunteer information. "Well, she should too, figa out her own body and, so, she... should be able to tell you what she likes. How she likes to be touched... If anyone's gonna know it should be her..."

Cal hesitated again. Lewis was still staring at him eagerly; like he was taking mental notes. Bloody hell.

"Talkin' is good. Girls like to talk. And kissin', lots of kissin'. Kissin' is always a very good startin' point. Can't kiss enough. And lots of explorin' and ask her if she likes what you're doin' or... and rememba that, don't just go for the obvious. There are lots of otha places that can really do it for a girl. Like the back of knees," Cal gestured towards his. "Lots of soft, gentle touchin' and kissin'."

He paused again. Avid audience. Awkward as all hell. Lewis's face shifted a little as if to say 'is that it?' Not in a demanding way like 'where's my share of the cake?' but more like 'is there anything else that I should know because this is really helpful and I'd like all of the information before I leave the room'.

Cal swallowed. "Uh and... girls, they react slowa to things so... it might take her a while to even get used to havin' sex in the first place. Girls kinda have to... train their bodies to respond so... she might, or you can help or..."

Now. Did that answer the question enough?

"You have to figa it out," Cal added. He paused again and Lewis sat there and gave a slight nod. He had just turned seventeen, his body like that of a man, while his mind was still sometimes like that of a boy. "I have to ask," Cal went on. He did have to... And he was suddenly feeling more confident. "Are you havin' sex?"

Lewis looked only slightly uncomfortable before saying 'yes'.

"And you're bein' safe right?" Cal felt a spark of his heart beat. "You're usin' condoms?"

Lewis nodded, "Yes Dad."

"Condoms Lew. Not just pullin' out or..."

"No Dad!" Lewis interrupted. "We're using condoms."

"And you have... enough?"

"Yeah," Lewis agreed, looking into his lap a little. "You can get them from the health nurse at school. They're free. "

"Right. Good," Cal felt relieved. "And you know, you can ask me. I'll get them for you. I'd ratha make sure you had them."

"Yep thanks Dad."

"All right," Cal gave another nod, not wanting to push the issue, or more accurately, push his son out the door. He should probably just go and get some and give them to Lewis anyway. Yep, he was going to do that. "And..." Cal hesitated again. "We're talkin' about Hollie right?"

"Yeah," Lewis agreed.

Cal had no idea why that made him feel better but it did. Maybe it was to do with less random encounters for his son. Or that his first time was at least with someone who cared about him, even if it was a little premature to be talking about love at seventeen.

"How old were you?" Lewis asked suddenly, his face coming up again, his eyes meeting his father's. "The first time?"

"Ah, young," Cal hedged. This was the answer he had given Lewis before. "Just a kid really. It was stupid." And when Lewis didn't seem dissuaded by those answers he admitted he was fourteen. Lewis's eyebrows went up a little in surprise. "But I wish I had waited," Cal went on. "Till I was olda and a little bit more mature. It wasn't a great experience and I'm not really proud of it." He hesitated again. This was probably too much to share but oh well. When had that ever stopped him? "When you're with someone you love, Lew, really love, more than you eva thought possible, more than words will even describe, you get to thinkin' about what kind of man you are. And you think about the things you did in the past and how you once were, and in particula, the mistakes you made with otha people. And... my first time is one of those things I kind of regret. It wasn't special or even really very nice."

"She didn't love you?"

"No," Cal agreed. "No she didn't. And I didn't love her eitha. We weren't really even goin' out. Not like you and Hollie. We just hung out a few times at some parties or when a group of us went to a movie. It was behind some buildin' in the dead of winta and it was a quick... 'get it ova with' kind of thing." He gave a slight wince, the memories replaying in his mind. What he didn't add was that it was the poor girls first time too and Cal had hurt her and she had cried. At the time, he'd thought that was just normal. He'd always heard about how it hurt for girls and that was just normal. But now he suspected that was wrong. And he hoped it hadn't been like that for Lewis and Hollie. "I look back on that and think I don't deserve..." He stopped. "It sometimes makes me wonda whetha I deserve to be with someone like your Mum."

"Mum loves you," Lewis supplied.

"Yeah she does," Cal agreed.

"And you love her. Loads."

"I do," Cal confirmed. "But you know, Lew, when you really love someone, you really want to be the best person you can. You want to deserve to be with them. I didn't always feel that way about your Mum. I thought she was too good for me."

"Yeah I want to be a good boyfriend to Hollie," Lewis chipped in helpfully.

"Right," Cal nodded. "Good." He gave a slight smile and Lewis returned it and it seemed strange to Cal that he found himself in the same boat as his son. Which he supposed was a good thing even if Lewis wasn't saying he loved Hollie but cared for her very much. The boy, no, young man, was realistic. He knew they would be going away to college soon and he knew that teenage love was not always the real thing. They talked about it sometimes. Or at least, Lewis mused aloud while Cal had no idea what to say. If his life had taught him anything, it was that everything he thought was true was in fact wrong and that Gillian was the only thing that truly made sense to him. Those misguided notions from his childhood of getting married and having kids had all fallen out the window from six stories up when Zoe came along. Now he knew that a love like he shared with Gillian was rare. He hoped Lewis found it, but he also didn't want to shatter the boy's hopes. If Lewis didn't ever search or try, then how would he ever discover?

Lewis got to his feet, slapping his hands against his thighs lightly in a gesture of finality. "Thanks Dad."

"Sure," Cal agreed. A part of him felt he had communicated well, while another part worried he had not done enough. That was the part that kept him a good father. Or so Gillian told him, because _he_ was always searching and trying.

"Have fun with your marking," Lewis shot at him before walking off.

"Thanks," Cal replied dryly under his breath.


	116. Chapter 116

"Hey Mum," Lewis leaned over the breakfast bar on his arms and rocked a little like he was letting his legs swing beneath him.

"Hi," Gillian greeted from the sink, where she was washing baby potatoes for their dinner. Owen was supposed to help her prepare the evening meal soon but while she was deciding what they were going to make she had absently also made a start.

"Have you ever had a long distance relationship?" Lewis stood again and made small circles with his index fingers and thumbs and linked them together, then moved both his hands, still linked, from right to left across the front of his body. When he had finished, he went back to leaning.

Gillian looked over at her son. He was seventeen and off to college in a few months. It was scary to think. Soon he would be gone. His blue eyes were earnest as they waited for her answer and his medium brown hair almost obscured his view. He refused a hair cut though; that was how he liked it. "No," Gillian gave a slight shake of her head. "I haven't." And she knew that he was asking with Hollie in mind.

She wasn't sure, because decisions hadn't quite been made yet, but she suspected the two of them didn't plan on going to the same college. Which she was kind of relieved about. She didn't want her son following some girl to a college he didn't really want to attend when he was so brilliant he had his heart set on engineering. And the best place to study that was MIT. As much as Gillian loved Hollie... she was also glad her son didn't seem to be, as Cal put it, completely 'cunt struck'.

"You and Dad were never apart?" He used 'separate'.

Gillian felt a spike of alarm. Had he? Had Cal told him about those six months? _Those_ six months she had almost managed to forget about? Did they even count anymore and did they even count in this conversation? They _had_ been apart but not because of distance, because they had broken up. And so she wouldn't be lying if she shook her head and said that they hadn't. "Not more than a week anyway," Gillian added, using 'long' and 'week'. Cal had gone away on business sometimes but that was certainly not the same thing as years apart, not even months.

"Oh," Lewis noted.

Gillian waited for him to go on but it seemed he needed a moment to process the information or gather his thoughts. Gillian put the cleaned potatoes on the bench, dried her hands and went back to the fridge. It was Sunday and tomorrow was shopping day so for dinner this evening, they were basically going to use up everything else in the fridge. She picked out capsicums and eggs and took them back to the bench.

"Do you think it's tough?" Lewis asked next now that she was back facing him. He used 'difficult'

"Long distance?"

"Yeah."

Gillian stood for a second, thinking, or, at least, deciding how she was going to phrase her answer. "Yeah I think it would be quite tough. Even if you were mentally prepared for it. It's important to have a physical connection as well as just regular contact and you can't really do that if you're a million miles apart." Not that she was encouraging him to _not_ have a long distance relationship with Hollie but, actually she wasn't sure what she was saying. It was going to be tough, if they did decide to go down that road, and if he was asking her for her opinion, that was it.

"That's what I think," Lewis spoke again, pressing his index finger against his forehead absently. "I just kind of think that, what if Hollie meets someone really nice at her college? What if she meets a really great guy but she doesn't think she can be with him because she's holding out for me?"

Gillian was surprised enough to stop what she was doing. She leaned on her side of the bench, to mimic his position, but her legs didn't swing, her feet didn't even leave the ground.

"I don't think that's right. We might be meant to be, but we might not," Lewis added, using a 'maybe' gesture.

"Do you love her?" Gillian cut in, curious, and finding a good opportunity to pry into her teenager's life.

"Yeah, I do," Lewis admitted. "But you know. We're seventeen." He looked a little amused, a little embarrassed, a little resigned.

Gillian gave a nod of agreement. But what did he mean by 'we're seventeen'? That they were still just kids, working things out, that seventeen was not enough time to know, or that he shouldn't resign himself to just one person when he was so young? Or probably both.

"And I'm not saying I wanna dump her or anything but I want to be practical. It would hurt less if we sort of, put it on hold or something," he used 'stop. "And then she could feel free to find someone if someone happened to be right there, rather than her resist someone and then give in and that's cheating and then call me up to confess. I'd rather not do that."

Gillian listened, thinking he was being rather impressively sensible and mature but she didn't want to interrupt. She wondered if he'd gone to talk to his father first and if he had, what Cal had said. She wondered how much advice she should give, or whether she should just observe. And then she would gush all over his father later about what a smart young man he was turning into. Seriously. She couldn't really have hoped for better. Where did Lewis even get these ideas from? He was like a forty year old trapped in a teenager's body. Oh, it was a bit like when Cal had lost his memories and knew things but still had to figure out the context because the information wasn't all there.

"What do you think Mum?"

"I think that's a smart way to think about it," she flicked her index finger away from her forehead sharply. "Have you talked to Hollie about this?"

Lewis gave a slight shrug and he looked down at his hands, which had fallen still. Gillian suspected that meant he wasn't so confident doing so. Or maybe he had and it hadn't gone down well and now he was looking to be vindicated. Maybe he just didn't know what to say yet.

"I think we should talk about it before school finishes though," Lewis mused, twisting his open hands back and forth at the wrist, and Gillian got her answer. She stood up again and reached way over to give his hand a little squeeze.

"You'll work it out," she told him encouragingly. He looked up and gave her a wan smile, his pale blue eyes were warm though, pleased.

Owen came into the room and sauntered over to where his mother was standing. He put his arm around her waist. "Do I have to help with dinner now?" He asked.

"Yes, you do," she put her arm around his shoulder as she leaned away from her eldest again. "Great timing sweetheart," she turned them both, like they were Siamese twins attached at the hip, towards the chopping board already set up. "You can start with dicing up the potatoes."

"Dicing them?" Owen looked up at her, confused. Gillian saw Lewis slink away from the room out of the corner of her eye.

"Yes. We're going to have fried rice."


	117. Chapter 117

Cal pushed the half-sized trolley with one hand and hung on to Gillian's fingers with the other. She reached for a packet of coffee from the shelf and dropped it with the rest of their groceries. Or really, these were Cal's groceries and she was... tagging along for the sake of it? He had said he needed to go grocery shopping and for some reason, Gillian wasn't sure why, she had got into the car with him and now she was helping him gather food like they were living together or something. Now there was a thought. Them living together.

Gillian felt Cal's hand tighten against hers and she looked over at him and he was watching her. She must have... been staring into space or something to alert him. She gave him a smile and leaned against his arm as they silently made their way down to the end of the aisle and hung a right to round the corner into the next.

Practically-midnight shopping was actually kind of nice. There was no one around; the parking lot and the store were just about empty. So they didn't have to jostle someone for food or sigh their way through a screaming baby or toddler, although, Gillian might not have minded that so much... She knew it drove Cal insane. He bitched about it. Gillian had personally not shopped so late. The shelves were being stacked but this aisle, like the last, was empty and it felt a bit like they were the only people alive on the planet. Being with Cal often felt like that. He had a way of making her feel like she was his entire world when he wanted to; when he wasn't with his daughter also.

Cereal aisle. Gillian, was, unsurprisingly a sweet cereal eater. And Cal, who usually just had coffee in the morning, complained she was corrupting Emily to eating more junk food. So he reached for something full of bran with no sugar and then turned to Gillian, almost daring her to say something. "Can I pick one for me?" Gillian asked politely.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Hmmm," Gillian stepped closer to the shelf, closer to him. "Let's see. What did I do for you this morning that you can't do for yourself?"

Cal gave a sudden grin.

"Does that mean I deserve cereal?"

"I dunno," Cal mused. "I let you have cereal, the next thing I know you've got a toothbrush in my bathroom and your undawear unda my bed." He paused for a micro second. "Oh wait... you already do."

Gillian gave his shoulder a little push and he took a step backwards. He let go of the trolley but their hands were still joined. Gillian tried reaching around him but he blocked her way easily. She pouted at him. "Please?"

"That's cute but nope. Emily will eat it anyway and then she'll toddle off to school all hyped up on suga."

"I'll hide it."

"Unda your pillow?" Cal shot back.

"Such a good Daddy," Gillian teased. Then she sobered her face and tone. "But such a lousy boyfriend."

"Ouch," Cal feigned hurt. "That's harsh. Don't forget what I did for you this evenin'." He gave a slight smile and Gillian found herself returning it for a second. Because yeah, they were midnight shopping _because_ they'd spent the actual evening in bed, before venturing out again.

"Buy your girlfriend sugar," Gillian demanded.

"You'll rot your teeth," Cal countered.

"No seriously," Gillian told him. "Buy me some damn cereal."

"Eat _that_ cereal," Cal told her, gesturing to the box already in the cart.

"I don't like that one," Gillian pouted again. "Why are you being so difficult?"

"Me!" Cal feigned more surprise but Gillian suspected he was actually being stubborn on purpose. It felt less like teasing. It felt like he was trying to make a stand.

And so she decided she wasn't going to argue. It was cereal. Gillian was pretty sure there would be better things to pick a fight over. Choose her battles. But it didn't hurt a little. More than she thought it would. It had been all fun so far. The toothbrush was for convenience. So were the clothes. So Gillian supposed Cal didn't mind that so much. He didn't like her sneaking out early in the morning to go home and shower and get ready for work. So that made sense. But yeah, the cereal. Sure, that was maybe pushing it. Before he was ready.

And then Gillian started to wonder what it was she wanted from Cal. Not cereal but certainly... something more. The cereal symbolised... what exactly? Them getting serious? Probably not but something. It certainly seemed to mean something. Something like... Ugh no, she didn't know because she didn't know what to think, she only knew how she felt, and that was she was having fun with Cal and that she liked spending time with him a lot, that he was fantastic in bed and she enjoyed seeing sides to him he obviously never showed anyone else. But where were they headed exactly? They had never talked about marriage and where else was it that any relationship headed to? If it wasn't marriage or an equivalent then what was the point? That one certainly warranted a lot more thought. She was just out of a divorce. Never mind what weird game Cal was playing tonight, what kind of game was she playing? Why was the cereal so important to her?

Gillian tugged on Cal's hand and he stepped closer obligingly, closing the foot of distance between them. She pressed her lips against his in a slightly more than a mere peck kind of kiss, then stepped away, letting his hand go. "Ok," she conceded lightly and pushed the trolley forward again to move on, but found Cal's hand on her hip. He turned her around, so her back was to the row of cereal boxes this time.

"Get it if you want," he told her.

"It doesn't matter," she countered, aware they were sounding like a cliché. More aware they were having a quasi argument in the middle of the cereal aisle at quarter to midnight. She thought about telling him it 'wasn't about the cereal' but stopped herself, because that was hilarious! She was feeding into all kinds of hidden issues she didn't even know existed. What was apparent was that she needed to figure out what she wanted from her relationship with Cal and then maybe she could explain why the cereal was even a big deal, if she could work it out, and then maybe, she could stop acting like an insecure girlfriend and go back to having fun. Fun worked for them very well.

"If you want it," he tried again and she could see that he could see he had struck a nerve, even if he couldn't quite figure out which one, and was trying to make it right again.

She gave him a smile, an amused smile, because this was funny. This was her and Cal, who had known each other for so long before even stepping forward in their relationship; they already knew each other's bullshit, even if it wasn't quite in this setting.

"No Cal," Gillian told him.

"I'm supposed to want to get it?"

Yes.

But she was expecting the question and so she was able to school her face consciously to give him a genuine 'no' and a smile, remind herself that she was happy and cereal was inconsequential and she was having fun, having fun, with Cal and that was all she really wanted. That got her through his intense gaze and then the thoughts about wanting more rushed back in when he turned away again, to give the trolley another shove forward. Those kinds of thoughts scared her, let alone letting Cal see them.

Gillian stepped in behind him and he stopped suddenly, reaching for her hand again. He pulled her tight against his chest and kissed her, properly, warmly, but still aware that they were in a public place, even if it was mostly deserted. Before Gillian could push him away for too much intimate display, he broke the kiss off, reached out with his hand for a box of chocolately something and tossed it into the cart. "I want to get it," he told her and pushed forward again, this time not waiting for her.

Gillian watched him walk away, that cute ass of his and the little strut that showed when he was feeling cocky. Did he know because he could read her face? Or had he independently come to the same conclusion she had?

**PJ**

Cal put out the light and settled on his back. Gillian was on his left and as his eyes adjusted to the severely diminished light, he could see the vague outline of her profile against the adjacent pillow. It was two in the morning now and yet he still felt a little wired. Or at least, while his eyes burned with needing to rest, and this is what kept him from putting the light back on, his brain was still wide awake. "Gill," Cal started and leaned up on an elbow against the mattress. He saw her head turn towards him but he couldn't make out the features of her face. He could picture her expression though, curious and open.

The cereal bothered him and he didn't entirely know why. It was just cereal. And Gillian had a toothbrush there and clothes. Maybe it was because those things were necessities and the cereal was not? It was certainly not about Emily, though she didn't need encouragement. It was... It was Gillian becoming part of his life in a way that a toothbrush and a few clothes didn't. The toothbrush and clothes meant she wasn't going to go home at night or in the early morning. So that was ok. Because Cal wanted to be with her as much as he could when he had to keep it all restrained during the day. No one knew yet.

But the cereal...

He had just about fully freaked in the supermarket. She was pushing them to be more, a couple, and, he should have been bothered by the fact that she had actually gone grocery shopping with him in the first place, all nicely domesticated, not get bogged down over breakfast foods. What was wrong with him? Seriously.

"I'm sorry for diggin' my heels in ova cereal," Cal spoke again. God he wished he could put the light back on, or that he had started this conversation in the morning when he could see her face. Somehow it seemed important to do it now. Emily had only just talked to him about this, pushing Gillian away or not even letting her get close. What was he afraid of? That he might actually like having a girlfriend? There wasn't anything bad left to discover about Gillian. He already knew the worst. So, what _was_ he afraid of?

"It's not a big deal Cal," Gillian told him. "It's just cereal."

"No," Cal corrected. Maybe it wasn't a big deal for her but it was for him. "It is. It's..." and he stopped to think. He didn't know what to say. "It represents," he tried again. "Somethin'," he muttered. He tilted his head back, feeling strange inside and mostly, so incredibly out of his depth, and irrationally afraid that he had done something now that was going to scare Gillian away. She knew his bad things too, and they were worse than her bad things. She had, at least, dealt with her bad things. And he had not.

"I'm really shit at this kind of thing," Cal admitted.

"Talking?" Gillian's voice sounded like it was teasing.

"Yeah," Cal confirmed. "And relationships."

"Cal you have relationships all the time."

"Well, not with women."

"Sure you do. There's the one you have with your daughter. There's the one you have with your ex-wife."

Cal really did _not_ know what to make of _that_ comment.

"And there's the one you have with me."

"We're in a relationship?"

"Of course we are," she went on as if it were obvious. "We're business partners. And we're friends."

She didn't have to add 'and now we're lovers'.

"And they both work don't they?" Gillian added gently.

Well, that was technically true. But as Emily said, he had to let Gillian get in, closer, on this side of the wall. He just wasn't entirely sure how to go about that.

"Don't they?" Gillian prompted. "Or am I the _only_ one who thinks so?"

Cal mumbled something in agreement and lay down again. He had always considered himself lucky when it came to Gillian. But right now, in this moment, he _really_ considered himself lucky. Surely she knew what he'd done at the supermarket. He'd told her to fuck off out of his life. Instead of her going home, which would have really made a point, she had stayed and she had carried on as if she wasn't bothered, which Cal definitely thought she would be, but she wasn't, or was hiding it very well.

To be fair, they'd never actually had a conversation about where any of this was actually going. Girlfriend/boyfriend was a given. But what about them living together? Or... heaven forbid, marriage?

"Do you want to get married?" Cal blurted into the dark silence.

There was a beat before Gillian said "What!" rather sharply. She levered herself up on her elbow this time. "Are you?"

"No," Cal quickly objected. "No, no," he stuttered, a sharp spike of adrenaline making his heart beat faster and heat prickle outwards like a ripple across his chest. "I just meant, did I mention I'm crap at talkin' about stuff?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I just wonda-ed, do you want marriage out of this? Do you think about it?"

Gillian was silent for a moment and Cal wished for a god damned spotlight. The silence got longer and Cal went from curious for an answer to panicked wondering. Was she thinking about it? She must be thinking about her answer.

"I," Gillian started. "Haven't actually thought about it before now," she admitted slowly as if the words were taking a long time to form in her mouth. "I don't know what I want out of this relationship."

Cal actually had a thought about being hurt by that. But did that mean he wanted her to say 'yes I want to marry you one day Cal'? Or was it more that she hadn't thought about their future at all. Geeze did _he_ want to marry her?

"I mean, you're my best friend. Whatever happens from now, I would never want to lose you in that capacity."

"Me eitha," Cal agreed. He reached for her hand and she gripped it tightly.

"I like what we have," Gillian went on tentatively. "Really like it. And yeah I'd like us to move forward but I'm not talking about marriage necessarily. I've just been married and... Rings on fingers and documents don't make a relationship more... more..." She paused. "Stable or committed." And she sounded a little bitter.

Cal disagreed with that one. And he wasn't saying he didn't want to be stable or committed to Gillian, but he wasn't sure he could do marriage again. Even though his relationship with Zoe was completely different from his relationship with Gillian, from day freaking one, he still wasn't sure he could do it again. Once burnt, twice shy?

"At this point I don't think either of us are ready," Gillian went on.

"I'm not askin'," Cal reiterated.

"I'd have to say, I'm surprised you brought it up."

"A guy can't talk about marriage?" Cal shot back.

"No I just half figured you'd never get married again."

"I think that's true."

"Ok."

"Is that all right though? There's..." he hesitated.

"Go on," Gillian urged softly.

"I just mean, if we want different things in the end then should we... keep... if we're not in the same boat?"

"You mean we should quit it now before you start buying my brand of toothpaste?"

Cal gave a slight chuckle despite himself. He felt hot and cold at the same time. How was it she knew what he was thinking? The thought of losing her scared him shitless. He actually wanted to see how far they could take it. To see if they would last. To see how badly he could fall in love and whether he would be able to break the surface again or just completely drown in her. Now that was scary. And so it was that thought that also made him want to run a million miles in the other direction, to not get her cereal, to not give her any indication that she was having an effect on him, because he had built that wall very carefully and it was strong, not easily torn down.

"I don't want marriage Cal," Gillian went on when it was clear he was treating her question as rhetorical. "I want... open communication and loyalty and all the things anyone with self respect wants out of a relationship."

Which meant she didn't want him to break her heart. Were they talking about love already? Cal supposed it wasn't unreasonable. He had feelings for her he wasn't sure what the hell they were and he could only think to call them love. And like Gillian said, they were best friends, they had already had a long relationship. It wouldn't be irrational to talk about love at this point. But still... As a couple they were still new. And he really did have a lot of shit to sort out before he became responsible for her heart.

Self-respect meant a lot of things. Like loyalty and honesty but also patience and assertiveness and no game playing. It meant being strong for another person. It meant letting that other person cry on their shoulder. It meant encouragement and unrelenting faith. Self-respect meant having a partner, the support and security, without being dependent, without losing themselves in the other, without settling. Sometimes Cal wasn't really sure he even had faith in himself. Probably a really good time to start. If he didn't want to lose her. And he knew one thing for sure, even if all the rest of it was confusing, he didn't want to lose her.

"What do you want?" Gillian asked when, again, the silence went on too long.

What Cal thought was: I want to love you. What he meant was: I want to be worthy enough of your love and to love you the best way that I possibly can, the best way you deserve. What he said was 'I want that too' and Gillian leaned down to give him a quick kiss and then she settled on her side of the bed again and went quiet while Cal's mind went into over drive. He pushed himself up again and Gillian's head shifted to see him. "I just wanna be clear," he spoke again. "That I'm in. You know. Committed and whateva. To you and me. Just... it's not just a fling. It's... you and me, this is somethin'. It means somethin'."

Gillian was silent for a moment and Cal settled back on his pillow, his heart beating a little funny, but, interestingly, starting to calm down again. "Me too," Gillian told him softly, her hand coming to rest over his heart.


	118. Chapter 118

Gillian sat on the couch with ten month old Owen in her lap. He had an activity book in his hands and she was just spending some contact time with him while he fingered the various different textured materials on the thick cardboard pages. He made little talkative noises to himself as he 'discovered'. He didn't seem bothered that his mother was right there, not paying her much notice, but if she tried to put him down he started crying. Apparently he wanted the company, if not her attention. So she gave it to him because she didn't believe in letting babies just cry it out. They cried for a reason and it was their only way of communicating and who was she not listen when her child needed her? She was adept at one handed washing and dishes now anyway. Even more so with having to carry around an apnoea monitor as well.

Lewis had just finished his reading homework and was putting the books back in his school bag. Cal would be home soon to either take Owen or start dinner. Or maybe Gillian should text him to pick something up if he didn't feel like cooking. "Hey Lew?" She called over her shoulder, searching for him, checking to see if he was close enough to hear her properly. He appeared at the end of the couch. "Can you get my phone please?" She made a grabbing sign with both hands. "It's on the breakfast bar." He disappeared again and Owen went on ignoring her.

When Lewis came back Gillian suggested he text Dad. Lewis walked around her to sit on the couch on the middle cushion, kneeling on his legs. "What do I say?" He asked her when he was settled. He used 'write'.

"Ask Dad if he wants to cook," Gillian instructed, flipping her right hand over in the palm of her left hand. She patiently watched him type out all the words, asking her if he was spelling them right. Signing had really given him an advantage with his spelling.

"Like that?" Lewis showed her the screen, using 'correct'.

Gillian nodded yes, up-righted Owen, who lost his balance for a moment, and told Lewis to also say that if Dad didn't want to, then he could bring something home.

"Can we have pizza?" Lewis asked her, making a double 'Z' movement.

"We'll see what Dad says when he replies," Gillian responded, using 'answer'.

Lewis typed out the next question, asking her which words he should use because he had forgotten. "And now I send?" Lewis asked next. He used 'go', which wasn't quite correct for the concept.

"Yes," Gillian confirmed.

Lewis scrolled through the phone and Gillian wiped some drool from around her baby's mouth with the bib she kept handy for that exact reason. His teeth were coming through and he gave her a brilliant smile to show them off. She melted and gave his cheek a little rub. "Are you enjoying your book wee man?" She asked him. He gave a little squeal and slapped his hands down against the solid cardboard over his legs.

"Mum is the number not _Dad_? I forgot which one," Lewis asked her, his face confused. He brushed his fingers across his forehead to the side, making a fist.

"No baby it's not under 'Dad'," Gillian felt a funny spike in her heart rate. He almost sent the message to her father, not his father. "It's under Cal," she finger-spelled it for him. That's Dad's name remember?"

"Oh Cal," Lewis responded with a nod. "I didn't remember that but I remembered Dad wasn't the right number."

"Yeah," Gillian agreed.

"Gone," Lewis showed her the smiley face gif her phone displayed once a message had been successfully sent.

"What do you think Owen?" Gillian asked him. "Pizza for dinner? What do you think Dad's going to text back and say?"

Owen gave her another smile and she smiled back.

"Will Dad be ages?" Lewis asked.

"Maybe," Gillian turned her attention to him again. "If he's busy he might not be able to text back right away."

"Mum, how come Emmy doesn't call Dad Cal too?"

"Why do you think?" Gillian queried.

Lewis gave a slight frown as he thought.

"What does Emily call Dad?"

"Dad," Lewis answered.

"So what do you think that means?"

"Dad is her Dad too," Lewis responded easily, because this was something that he knew. But he obviously found a flaw in the logic somewhere to be asking about it now. Or maybe he hadn't actually thought about what that meant in particular.

"So that's why she doesn't call him Cal."

"But Emmy doesn't call you Mum."

"No because I'm not Emily's mom. Zoe is remember? You've met Zoe before." When he was little but he did know about her and she came up in conversation.

"But Zoe's no my mother," Lewis mused.

"No," Gillian agreed. Lewis was _hers_. "So you and Emily have the same father, but different mothers," she summarised.

"Oh." He was silent for a moment, that little frown on his features again; his thinking face. "Then. Where are you other children?"

Gillian was surprised by the question, a little shocked actually. "What other children?"

"You had the man who was your married to before Dad?" Lewis's eyes went earnest like he was finally cottoning onto a theory.

"Alec," Gillian supplied. "Yes I was married to Alec before I was married to Dad."

"Where are your children?"

"We didn't have children."

"Oh," Lewis noted again.

"Not everyone who is married has children," Gillian told him gently. And then she wondered how much she should tell him. About Sophie? Cal would. He was a big fan of having all the information. And she was a big fan of introducing information at an earlier age because then it would always seem normal. There would be no big bombshells when their kids got older because they had always been open with them from the start. But there were some things Lewis wouldn't understand yet because of his age. And then there were things Gillian wasn't sure she wanted him to know until he was older because he wouldn't be mature enough.

"Alec and I couldn't have children together. We adopted a baby girl once. Like Lily. Do you remember? That Kiera was her Mommy but she came to live with us to be in our family?"

"Lily died," Lewis noted bluntly, as if informing his mother of this fact.

"Yes I know."

"Then did the other baby die?"

"Her name was Sophie," Gillian told him. "And no, she didn't die."

"Then where is she now? Is she a grown up?"

Yes. Probably.

"Her Mom decided that she wanted to have her back in her family so Sophie went home. When she was still a baby."

"Oh she went far away?"

"Yes," Gillian agreed. Completely unreachable. She had tried. "So I don't see her anymore."

"She didn't want you to be her Mum anymore?" Sincere little blue eyes.

"Her mom decided she wanted to be Sophie's mom, not me."

"Then how come you not have a baby like Wen after Sophie went away?"

Sometimes he really surprised her, the things he came out with, the intelligent questions or observations. Lily went away and then there was Owen. So because Sophie went away there must have been a baby next. That was how the pattern went.

"Because." Gillian paused. How was she going to explain this one in a way that he was going to understand? Cal was so much better at this. Or maybe he found it really hard and she had just never appreciated that before? He had admitted to finding talking to Lewis about sex difficult. He just hid it relatively well. "It's very difficult for me to be able to have babies."

"Is it hard?"

"For me, yes it's hard."

"How come?"

"Because... my body isn't very good."

"Aw are you sick?"

"Sort of," Gillian admitted but that wasn't really accurate. She was kind of butchering this. Owen jerked away from her and she had to reach out to grab him so he wouldn't fall. That gave her time to think on her explanation. "It's like how your ears don't work as good as other people's do. But for me it's that my eggs don't work as good as other people's do."

"The eggs in your varies?" He gripped a section of his shirt by his stomach to show exactly where her ovaries were located.

"Yes," Gillian agreed. "They don't work very well and so it's very hard for me to have babies. Not like other people."

She saw the sudden alarm on his face. They had talked about adoption and she was telling him it was really hard for her to have babies. And she had adopted with her other husband, as well as with Cal... oh yeah she could see where his mind was going with that.

"So to have you, Dad and I had to do something really special," she reached a hand to rub his cheek, like she had with Owen a moment ago. "Really special," she reiterated.

Lewis beamed. "And Wen?"

"Yes Wen was a miracle," Gillian noted. Certainly something very special.

Lewis nodded and leaned forward to pat Owen's head. The baby looked up at his big brother and gave him a smile too. So many smiles. Lewis cooed something at him and Gillian wished she had her phone, instead of Lewis, so she could take a photo of the two of them. Seriously, her heart in a puddle sometimes.

Lewis sat back on his crossed ankles. He'd managed to keep her phone in his hand the entire time they talked. He woke up the screen and checked for messages but none must have snuck through when he wasn't paying attention because he looked up at his mother again with a little disappointment. "Dad's taking ages," Lewis mused.

"Yes he is," Gillian agreed.


	119. Chapter 119

Cal reached out for his wife's hand but he couldn't make his hand grip around hers. Then she turned away from him and so he tried to move closer to her, to be able to touch her but he seemed so slow and sluggish because suddenly she was a few paces ahead of him on the path. A forest, trees and bushes and dim sunlight. So Cal tried to quicken his pace to catch up, a distinct feeling of being behind, of distance and pulling away. It felt like he was wading through mud. His arms did not reach far enough. Gillian pulled further and further away, always just out of reach, a distance that felt like miles and Cal felt sadness and panic and confusion.

It felt like the world suddenly tipped and he was falling? Had he tripped? And then he woke up and Gillian was getting into bed next to him and the room was dark. He was more disorientated. "What?" he mumbled, trying to sit up, his arms feeling uncooperative.

"Shh, it's ok, it's me," Gillian whispered in the dark.

Cal knew it was her. He was asking where she'd gone. Then he remembered where she had gone in the dead of the night. And now she was back. "What happened?" He asked. "Is she all right?" He turned his hip towards her so he was facing her, not that it mattered, he couldn't see a thing; no moon. The light had been on when she'd left. She'd put it on to get dressed and Cal had left it on to keep him awake for when she got back. Fail. Gillian must have turned it off again, just now.

"It's over," Gillian murmured.

Cal was practically on her as soon as the words were out of her mouth. He knew what they meant and Gillian was reaching for him, so they kind of bumped into each other for a moment until Cal managed to embrace her tightly. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her hair and he felt her cry softly against his shoulder. "I'm sorry darlin'."

The phone call had been about Gillian's mother. She'd had a stroke about a year ago and had not been doing very well since. And now Gillian had had a phone call from the hospital to say she had had another one. Obviously she had not made it. Cal checked the time. Gillian had been gone about three hours. It was now two in the morning. Cal rubbed a hand against his wife's back, noting she wasn't wearing a bra and telling himself to shut up; that was not helpful information. He thought more about what he should do next, how he was going to be there for her and what he should say. What should he say?

Gillian pulled away from him and he let her go. She wiped at her cheeks with her fingers and Cal would have jumped in to do that if he wasn't worried about poking her in the eye because he couldn't see. She sniffled too and thanked him for the hug.

"Course," he mumbled, staying close to her. She was on her back now against the pillow and Cal was leaning on his elbow, his hip against hers, looking down at her. In the dark. He wanted to ask her if she was all right but that was a stupid question he didn't want to voice. Her mother had just died. Of course she was not all right. He had wanted to go to the hospital with her but someone had to stay with the boys. Oh the boys. In the morning they were going to have to tell the boys.

"Do you think I should call Matthew?"

Cal came to. Matthew. Her brother. "No. I mean, not now at least. Maybe in the mornin'?"

"Yeah the morning," Gillian agreed and sniffed again. She reached over to her bedside table for tissues. "Do you think they'll come back?"

"I don't know," Cal admitted. They were in New York. On a family holiday before their eldest went off to college. "Maybe not tomorrow. They're back in a few days aren't they? It would be betta for them to wait. You know? Don't you think? To stay? Am I bein' callous?"

"No you're not."

"I just mean they planned that trip for a really long time," Cal went on.

Gillian's hand found its way to his upper arm and she squeezed. "I know what you mean and you're right. So maybe I shouldn't call them?"

Cal suddenly went quiet. Oh now that was a tough one. "Or call them at least but tell them not to rush home."

"They probably will anyway."

"Well make them see there's no rush. The funeral won't be for a while anyway will it?" Cal suddenly stopped again. He leaned down to hug his wife once more. "I'm sorry luv. We shouldn't be talkin' about this."

"No it's ok. Talking's good. I want to talk." Gillian cleared her throat. "I need to talk. I don't want to do this alone."

"You're not alone," Cal murmured against her hair. He turned his head to kiss against her temple. At least, he thought that was her temple. "I'm here."

Gillian gave him a tight squeeze and it sounded a bit like a sob. "Thank god."

Cal held her again, feeling hot from their combined body heat, but enduring it without complaint. She pushed him away a little and he shifted to lie beside her, nice and close, where he belonged. It felt different already, that she was talking and crying and had come home straight to him. When her father had died she had shut him out and that had hurt. Cal still might feel like a useless bastard in light of her parent's death, but at least this time... he might get a chance to prove himself a little. Or at least have a go.

They both over slept the next morning. Cal didn't even remember falling asleep but he was tired and it was a stupid hour of the morning. He felt badly for Gillian, knowing she had wanted to talk and he had fallen asleep, and also because her mother had died. And as he was coming aware, he remembered the dream he'd had last night, of trying to reach for his wife only to find her constantly drifting away and thwarting his efforts. And he felt a pang of fear.

Cal slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Gillian. He put her phone on silent, so no one else would disturb her, and made sure alarms were turned off. Then he went and lit a fire under his sons' asses. They weren't even ready for school. But they had had breakfast. So he made them lunches quickly and drove them to school, getting them there just in time, then headed back to the house. Gillian was awake and sitting up in bed when he got back. "I text you," she told him.

Cal realised he didn't have his phone on him.

"But your phone is over there," she gestured to his bedside table.

"Sorry. What did you want?" He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his phone. Gillian wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, her stomach warm against his back. She pressed a kiss against his neck. "You," she murmured. "I wanted you." She pressed another kiss against his skin while he opened the message and read it. "Thank you for last night."

"I didn't do anythin'." Had he?

"You were there. That's always enough."

"It's my default when I don't know what to do or say."

"Genius."

Cal gave a slight chuckle but cut it off, feeling bad that he was laughing while she was hurting. Was she hurting? He turned slowly and gently so he didn't dislodge her roughly. She shifted into his lap and he put his arms around her again. "How are you feelin' today? Sorry if that's a cliché question."

"I don't really know," Gillian answered slowly.

"If that was a cliché?" Cal asked quickly. Gillian gave a slight smile. She didn't correct him and he knew. "Did you call Matthew?"

"No," Gillian confessed. She looked up at him. "I don't have the heart."  
>"I still want to suggest waitin' until they get back."<p>

"I think that would be fantastic for my procrastination. You're such an enabler," Gillian sighed.

Cal held her tighter for a second, pressing a kiss against her hair. "Can I do somethin' for you?"

"Give me more time." There was a pause. "Did you take the boys to school?"

"Yes."

Gillian gave a groan and shifted to bury her face in his shoulder, against his tattoos. "I have to tell them too. Soon."

"Yeah," Cal agreed softly.

"Will you tell them?"

"Pardon?" Cal asked, because he thought he must have misheard.

"Can you tell them please?" She pulled back to look up at him again, blue eyes wide and pleading. "I don't want to do it."

"Sure, yeah, ok," Cal agreed quickly. He was such a sucker for her. "I'll do the talkin'."

Gillian nodded and looked relieved. "Good. Ok. I don't have to worry about that then."

"You're gonna be there though right?" Cal asked, suddenly sensing that she meant for him to tell the boys alone. And the expression on her face said that that was exactly what she was intending. "No way Gill. You have to be there. I'll do the talkin' but you can't not be there. She's your mutha and their grandmutha. It... you can't not. They will need you. They'll be upset and need you. It's different cos they're olda now. They undastand betta."

Lewis was ten and Owen five. It had been two years since their grandfather had died.

"Exactly, they understand more now. It's going to be so much harder," her eyes went back to pleading. Then they filled up with tears and Cal felt the need to back down and promise her everything.

"Come on," he coaxed gently. "We have to do it togetha. That's our role as parents rememba?" She taught him that. To push aside all his own shit to be the best parent for their kids. Even when sometimes it was freaking tough. Gillian nodded against him but her tears were not crying, just weeping and she got hold of herself again pretty quickly. She gave him a kiss and he let her go. Cal found her next in the shower, staring absently at the wall. The only reason he came to interrupt was because her 'quick' shower had already been more than twenty minutes and the coffee he'd made her was pretty much cold.

"Darlin'?" Cal called gently when she didn't even turn as he popped the shower cubicle door open. She turned her head and gave a smile. "Are you gettin' out luv?"

"I thought you might be joining me."

"It's been twenty minutes," Cal countered.

"Oh really?" Gillian looked surprised. She suddenly reached out to turn the water off.

"You all right?" Cal asked again, stepping out of the way.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed. "Just, thank you," she said as Cal handed her her towel. "I was just thinking."

Cal leaned against the sink, watching her. He wondered if he should pry. She seemed to be doing ok and she certainly wasn't cutting him out like last time, when her father died, and like that time after her friend was shot. This time felt different, but he couldn't also help but feel wary.

"About what I have to do and whether I should call Matthew," she turned to him, wrapping the towel around her body. Her hair was wet and it had always been a very good look for her but instead of the usual sexual desire, well ok, there was a hint of that too, Cal felt an overwhelming need to protect her. He pushed away from the bench and stepped forward to put his arms around her. She smelt like floral shampoo and vanilla body wash and it felt like coming home.

"Can I help with somethin' luv?"

"Cuddles help a lot," Gillian murmured over his shoulder.

Cal gave her a squeeze and swayed them for a moment then let her go again. She went to the bedroom to dress and he followed her.

"I feel like I should be crying," Gillian started talking at her dresser. She turned to face him and he sat on the chest at the end of their bed. "Grieving?"

"We all grieve in different ways," Cal supplied.

Gillian gave a faint smile. "I know. But it's somehow different telling someone that and experiencing it."

"It's not like it wasn't entirely unexpected," Cal tried. "I mean, she'd been in the hospital and her docta said it was unlikely she'd fully recova."

"I know," Gillian nodded.

"I'm kind of out at this point," Cal gestured helplessly.

Gillian turned towards the furniture again and let the towel slip from her body. She dressed silently, looking thoughtful and Cal watched her, searching for something else to say...


	120. Chapter 120

When everyone else started crying, Gillian started crying too. Gillian waited for Matthew and his family to come home before she told them the news about Dana's death and she sat with Cal as he broke the news to their own kids and with them all crying around her, it was easier for her to let go too. She thought about her boys' loss of their grandmother and it broke her heart, for now they were grandparent-less, completely, and they were still only young. They were going to grow up without grandparents at all.

So she did cry, despite finding it so hard to get to that place in the first days after her mother's death. Cal was the rock she anchored herself to once again; he always was. And at the funeral she found the strength to get up and speak; being the eldest the responsibility was on her. It was nice, the funeral, low-key but not casual; Dana would not have stood for that. And she was buried next to David, which was what they had both wanted, in the end.

It was all so very natural but still, in Gillian's heart, it didn't seem right. She didn't feel right. It felt like she was going through the motions without feeling the emotions. She could feel Cal watching her and she knew that he could see, though he chose to say nothing. She thought back to her father's death and shutting him out. How she had done it on purpose because... well... it was stupid, but she had felt like she was in it alone, that she couldn't lean on him, that she shouldn't burden him. She thought back to the shooting, of Neil, of feeling scared and insecure and alone again. She wasn't alone. She was surrounded by people she loved; her husband and children, nieces, nephews, friends and family. Why was it in a crisis she automatically turned to solitude?

Gillian emerged from the bathroom, her mouth a little tingly from the mint in the toothpaste she had used to brush her teeth, and saw her husband was already in bed, glasses on, book propped up against his legs. He had tucked their boys in tonight, because they needed it. He had been so good with them, gentle and understanding and such a good Daddy. So sexy in the glasses; he was an incredibly beautiful man. And he was her husband. Gillian pulled the bathroom door closed softly and Cal half looked up at her but remained focus on the book he was reading. Gillian walked around the bed and pulled back the covers to get in. She sat on the edge of the mattress instead, her back to her husband for a moment, to remove her watch and jewellery.

If she was going to psychoanalyse herself, and this situation, the way she was handling it, it was probably because as a child, with her father's drinking, and her mother's enabling, that she _had_ been alone or felt alone. She had had to deal with a lot of things alone, the drinking and growing up. And it was very well that she had probably taken this trait with her all through her adult hood. Through her first marriage certainly; she had never, ever let anyone else into the very small circle she had shared with Alec. No one knew about his substance abuse problem, not even her family until _well_ after they were married. By the time she had even dared to tell Cal about it, it was only because her marriage was practically over and she had a foot out the door. Then it was safe to do so. Then it was too late to fix.

So now? With her mother's death? When she wanted to shove everyone away from her and deal with it alone, to try and feel something, or work out how she was feeling... What she suspected she had to do was talk to Cal about it. For two reasons, the first being that she had told him she would be more open when it came to the things that really cut her deeply, like he was with her; equilibrium and communication. But also because she had no idea what else to do and it was worth a shot. Every other time they talked it worked out pretty well; she wasn't sure why she avoided it.

Relationships took work and conscious efforts and she couldn't afford to absently shut the world out again. She had done it far too often, going all the way back to her childhood; she had never told anyone her father was an alcoholic either, not until she'd met Casey in college and was practically in therapy. But Cal was her best friend, and husband, and therapist, and shoulder to cry on. He was the man she turned to in every other situation, the one person she trusted without reserve, the father of her children, her partner in crime. She was hurting but she wasn't blind. He reached out to her, in the toughest times, when he was in the darkest of places, and she would always be there for him. So why would she not reach out to take his hand when the offer was permanently there?

Gillian left the assortment of bracelets and her watch under her lamp, put it out and swung her legs into the bed. She pulled the covers up and she slipped down. When she was lying flat she turned to her side to look over at her husband. His blue eyes were in intense focus on the page. She wondered what he was reading. If it was a novel, and it was good, she was so stealing it from him. He stole her books all the time.

"A minute," Cal mumbled and she gave an 'uhuh' in response. She didn't mind. Sometimes it was nice to just stare at him. And she was trying to work out what she wanted to say. Should she tell him all of the above? How much of it was going to seem completely irrelevant to the situation she faced right now, which was that it felt like her heart was cold and unfeeling. Her mother had just died and she had token cried and couldn't _feel_ anything.

It really was a minute before Cal bookmarked his place and when he flipped back the cover Gillian could see what the book was. 'Fear'. She didn't catch an author's name. "What are you reading?" She asked as Cal put the book on his bedside table and quickly put out the light, plunging them into darkness.

"It's a series," Cal told her as he shifted, also onto his side, to mirror her. "The boys' are readin' it so I thought I'd check it out. Makes a good convasation starta."

She loved that he made the effort. She felt Cal's hand searching for hers so she shifted her fingers into his. He gripped her tightly. "What about you? You got that thoughtful expression on your face."

Gillian realised suddenly why he had put the light out, instead of leaving it on, like he could have, if he knew she wanted to talk; it was because she liked to talk in the darkness, in the safe confines of their bed. She wanted to laugh, at the sweetness of him, instead she felt the prick of tears, of all the hurt from her childhood and her mother, more than her father, who had been thoughtless, but of her mother who had purposefully lied and covered up and made her daughter feel as if she were unimportant.

Gillian felt a surge of anger and it suddenly blurted out and she launched into a rant of hot angry words and tears. It all came out of her, all of a sudden, all the times her mother broke promises because her father was drunk and her mother wouldn't leave him to take Gillian to the mall on a Sunday afternoon. The times her mother had lied and said her father was very ill right now with some kind of stomach bug, when in fact, now that Gillian knew better, he was hung over. The times David had screamed at them to shut up because he had a raging headache and Matthew had let a door slam. And her mother had rushed in to hush them up, even though they were doing nothing, and to get her father water, Advil, a cold compress, she would rub his shoulders; sometimes she would banish them outside.

"It just makes me so fucking angry," Gillian spat, the sheets around her hot and damp, her pillow lumpy and uncomfortable. She grabbed it and hurled it somewhere into the darkness. Her grip on Cal's hand was so tight she must be hurting him, she must be, but she couldn't bring herself to let go. And he didn't pull away. Nor did he interrupt her. Every so often he indicated he was listening, mostly by agreeing with her, but he didn't talk her down or try to change her mind.

With her head flat on the cool mattress Gillian continued to rant. "I just can't believe she went back to him. After all of that. After she worked up the courage and finally said 'no'. She finally left and then she just threw that all away again. And yeah maybe I could concede that she was giving him a second chance and I'm a big fan of that. I am."

"Me too," Cal muttered softly.

"But he was freaking drinking again anyway, and it's just like it was all for nothing. All of it. Every shitty thing they did between them. Every crappy parenting decision they made, mostly by not making a decision... Ugh!" Gillian cried. "Why? Why couldn't they be better? For me?" And she burst into tears again because that hurt the most. Her father couldn't stop drinking, not even for his children. And her mother always put him first, above her children, above herself.

"Gill," Cal murmured and moved so he was leaning over her. He attempted to put his arm around her and hug her and she was so angry, so aggravated she shoved at him, wanting him gone, wanting to lash out because he was there. But he was stronger and so he forced his arm between her back and the mattress and gathered her up. "Stop it," he told her firmly. "Stop now. That's enough."

She did. She stopped fighting and held him tightly. She really could not express enough how much she loved him and not just because he was sexy and a good father, because he got her. He understood her in all the ways and he was patient with her and caring and loving. So loving. She loved him in ways she didn't even know how to describe. She loved him because he was not her father and not Alec. Not even close. She loved him because he had overcome his demons and because he helped her overcome hers. She loved him because he had inadvertently helped her to break the pattern her mother had taught her and given _her_ a second chance.

"I'm sorry," Gillian blurted, her face hot against her husband's neck. She was in his lap and he was holding her tightly.

"I'm not," Cal retorted. "Get it all out."

Gillian nodded. It felt like she had.


	121. Chapter 121

The doorbell rang and Owen raced down to answer it. Cal followed more slowly and so he was able hear his nine year old talking to their guests before he was close enough to see Kent standing on the door step with another young man. Owen was saying hello and Kent was saying hi back and Cal put a hand on the boys shoulder to pull him back. "Let them come inside," he directed gently.

Kent came in first and then the other man, saying hello to Cal as he did so. "This is Simon," he introduced, finger-spelling his name rapidly.

Simon gave Cal a smile in greeting, one that didn't reach his eyes and offered his hand to shake. "Nice to meet you sir," he said, his voice smooth and warm. His eyes were a startling blue and his blonde hair shaved close to his scalp so it's true colour was almost undetectable.

Cal gripped his hand firmly and gave a squeeze. "Cal," he identified himself. He noted Simon hadn't signed and so he didn't either; he must be hearing. Kent hadn't said either way. Which was completely natural. Hearing people didn't indicate that they could hear, so why should non-hearing persons do the same? Unless they didn't understand what was being said. "And this is Owen," Cal indicated his son.

"Hi," Owen offered, also extending a hand, like they had been practising.

"Hi Owen," Simon gave him a smile too and shook hands politely.

Cal didn't know too much about Simon, except that he was in the Navy. Which was the entire point of this evening. To get to know Simon.

"Are you Kent's boyfriend?" Owen asked next, signing 'boy' and 'friend'.

"Uh," Simon seemed suddenly unsure. Cal watched him carefully. "Yes," he answered with a firm nod, and his eyes darted towards Cal who was starting to think Simon was nervous about this meeting, and also something else, something Cal's spidey senses were starting to wave a flag about. But he hadn't worked it out yet. He would need more time to think about it, gather the evidence...

"Let's go through," Cal indicated, giving Owen a slight push to lead the way. Kent followed, with Simon behind him. Cal closed the front door and brought up the rear. He watched Kent introduce Simon to Gillian and Lewis and again Cal saw a slight tension creep up on Simon as he shook hands and said hello. Again, he didn't sign, even though it was obvious that Kent and Lewis did, and that Lewis was wearing hearing aids. But that wasn't it. That wasn't the weird thing about him that Cal was observing. It was something else.

Gillian spotted Cal hanging around in the back and shot him that look that told him off for skulking and also suggested that he get his ass into host mode. So he stepped forward and offered beers. The boys were allowed juice. Lewis was on setting the table, which he was already halfway through, and Owen had helped to cook. Cal handed out beers and suggested they go and sit on the couches. Gillian, thankfully, went with them; dinner was happy in the oven for another fifteen minutes or so and she was the best conversationalist out of them all. Even with a beer in hand she made signing seem so easy. Cal noted Simon watched her mouth, not her hands. But that still wasn't it. He had to restrain himself twice from blurting out a question, interrupting the flow of conversation and setting Simon on more of an edge; that was the best way to get information out of someone, make them uncomfortable, let the emotional markers start to slide in and become more noticeable. And Cal never knew what he might uncover with a well timed probing question. But he didn't, because as Gillian had told him, it was rude and Simon was a guest, not a subject for interrogation. It wasn't like Kent was Cal's kid which would have given him license to grill the boyfriend.

Gillian would be so proud at his restraint. She had her own method of wheedling out information and it was more subtle and socially acceptable. Cal liked to wear someone purposefully down in an interrogation room. Gillian was similar, in that she asked a series of questions, but hers was a social prying that was allowed, almost expected, and was so less invasive than Cal's technique with an uncooperative witness. So he sat back and watched the master at work.

"So Simon," Gillian went on. "What do you do? Cal told me you're in the Navy?"

"Yes Ma'am," Simon responded with pride that Cal saw immediately. "I'm a Lieutenant junior grade."

Whatever that meant. Cal didn't know his military ranks. Certainly not the American ones. And yes, they were different to the British.

"And what do you do in the Navy?" Gillian pried away to her wee heart's content. Which meant Cal didn't have to. Cal liked to observe and even though he had mostly gotten over being quiet in a social situation, mostly through Gillian's nagging, in this case, he just couldn't help himself. His eyes went from Kent to Simon to Kent and back again and he just... He felt this need to... verify.

"I'm an air traffic controller," Simon answered earnestly and again, showed pride. So did Kent.

"So how'd you meet Kent?"

"We met at college," Kent jumped in, his hands moving rapidly while he also spoke aloud. He signed so formally sometimes Cal wasn't entirely sure of what was said. The Lightman's had their own unique brand of communication. Simon turned his head to listen to Kent talk. He sat up straight, keeping his posture. If Cal hadn't already known Simon was military, it would have been easy to work out.

"Simon was taking an extra paper in philosophy," Kent went on. Gillian smiled as she listened and Cal felt a tickle at the back of his neck. He turned his head abruptly and found Owen behind him giggling.

"Don't," Cal told him off. "Have you done the table?"

"Lewis was doing it," Owen answered.

"Is it done?"

"Yes."

"Good. Go away."

"I want to listen."

"Well then come and sit down," Cal told him with slight exasperation. He was missing the story now. Gillian's hand found its way casually to his thigh and gave a very slight squeeze. Was that a little message for him to calm it down? Or was she just satisfying her need to touch him in some way. Because often, she just needed to touch him.

Lewis and Owen came into the circle of couches. Lewis sat next to his father and Owen chose to squish beside Kent on the end of the smaller love seat. So Cal had missed the conversation about why Simon was doing a philosophy paper and now they were talking about what his job entailed. If he minded being grilled he didn't show it and considering Cal found him a completely easy read, he was confident in saying that Simon didn't mind.

The alarm for dinner went off and Gillian got up to get it. Owen hovered to help because he was on dinner, though there wasn't anything for him to actually do. They all sat up at the table, which had been pulled away from the windows so Owen and Lewis could sit on that side of it. Gillian served up and encouraged them to help themselves to salad before taking her seat.

"This is really great thank you," Simon noted from the head of the table, looking down at Gillian, who sat beside Cal, who was at the other end.

"I helped," Owen piped up from Simon's left.

Simon gave him a smile. "This is great," he reiterated.

"How long have you guys been dating?" Gillian asked.

'_Oh good_,' Cal thought. It had been a while since prying questions were asked. And that thing was still bugging him. That thing he couldn't name. Kent reached over to place a hand on Simon's forearm and Simon gave him a smile. Almost a shy smile and Cal realised that that was it. Affection. Kent's entire face lit up when he talked about how long he and Simon had been together and where they had gone on their first date even. He signed so expressively whenever he told a Simon story and he leaned into the other man like he was compelled to be close to him. But Cal knew Kent was an emotive, expressive and loving person. He was more interested in seeing how Simon felt about Kent.

After dinner the boys cleared the table around their parents and their guests while they kept talking. Kent was a big talker and he was clearly excited but it seemed Simon was a man of few words. Few enough anyway. He started to loosen up a little toward the end and that was about the time Cal started to also start inserting himself into the conversation. He had what the others did not, more stories of Kent. And so he shared them. Obviously cancer was not a laughing matter, but Cal did have other memories of Kent now. Namely the younger man trying to teach Cal to sign properly.

Owen approached where they were sitting again. "Mum," he interrupted. "I'm bored."

"Well you can go to bed if you'd like."

Owen looked alarmed for a moment. "I'm not that bored."

"It's bed time anyway," Cal noted.  
>"No!" Owen protested and ducked away quickly.<p>

"That was serious!" Cal called after him.

"I'll get them to bed," Gillian noted, turning to talk to Cal.

"I'll do it," he offered.

"We should really go anyway," Simon spoke up. Kent nodded his agreement.

Cal and Gillian both walked Simon and Kent to the door. "Thank you so much for inviting me over," Simon said politely as they stood there for a moment.

"You're welcome. It was lovely to meet you," Gillian smiled warmly.

Cal nodded his agreement and looked down to see Simon reach for Kent's hand. He also turned his head to the other man and his eyes softened and Cal thought: finally!

"I'm not exactly, uh, 'out'," Simon suddenly admitted. "My father..." he trailed off abruptly, embarrassed. And of course, the Navy. Just because 'don't ask, don't tell' had been repealed didn't mean it was easy, or that the issues had been resolved over night. So it was obviously a tough subject for Simon and Cal understood why the young man was habitual in _not_ showing affection. He doubted Simon could take his boyfriend home to show him off to his parents. And that sucked.

"You're welcome anytime," Cal added kindly. He felt the brush of his wife's fingers against his own. "We're pretty much a doss house around here sometimes." He got blank looks and then polite smiles and nods and he sniggered to himself because they hadn't understood what he meant. He wasn't far off though. They had collected a small gathering of strays over the years that had found a home of sorts in their hearts. Gillian's fingers caught on his sleeve and gave a tug. That meant 'explain that to me later'.

Cal reached for the door and opened it, not because he was trying to get rid of their guests, but because they were all just standing there, not doing anything. With the door open there was a round of hugs from Gillian. Simon attempted a hand shake with Cal but Cal just pulled him into a hug. He hugged Kent as well.

"The boys should have come to say goodbye," Cal noted. That was impolite of them. Or him. Maybe he should have gone to get them.

"We'll see them again," Kent responded.

"Make sure of it," Cal told him.

Simon stepped down to the path outside and Cal saw they were holding hands again. He felt better seeing that, the affection and also, the explanation. Simon wasn't exactly out and proud yet. That was why he seemed a little distant with Kent. He was still getting used to things. That was ok in Cal's book. How long had it taken him to get used to Gillian? To let her in...

They waved and closed the door and then Gillian pounced on Cal. "I like Simon!"


	122. Chapter 122

Lewis clipped his own bicycle helmet up under his chin and pushed down on top of it with both his hands to make sure it was on completely. If it were up to Gillian, she would wrap the kid up in bubble wrap before letting him go out on his bike. Cal talked her down from that ledge. He even refused to let her buy knee and elbow pads for the kid. A graze on the knee was part of childhood, he told her. Lewis couldn't be protected from everything. But even as it was, she didn't feel comfortable letting the five year old ride around the neighbourhood without her at least... keeping an eye on him. With the way their house was designed she couldn't simply stick her head out of the window from the living room and double check he was still there and still all right. She knew how easy it was to snatch a kid and just take off. And she knew how easy it was for someone to take someone she loved from under her nose, from her front yard.

"I go now?" Lewis asked, looking up at her like a little R2D2 with his helmet on his short stature. His blue eyes were earnest and excited. Now he knew how to ride his bike, it was his favourite past time.

"Yeah baby," she smiled. "Go for it."

Lewis raced to his bike, which was resting on its stand behind her car, waiting patiently for its owner. Lewis bent his knees to push the stand back out of the way with his fingers and then stood, taking the weight of his bike with both hands on the handle bars. He looked over at his mother, who had gone to where Owen was sitting in his car seat on the trunk of her car. She was fixing the blanket around him, making sure he was tucked in. It was starting to get cooler again and she was too paranoid about his immune system to even let him catch the hint of a chill. "You watch me," Lewis told her, pointing to his eyes.

"I will," she nodded, turning to give him her attention. "Go. Show me."

The driveway was short with a steep incline up to the house and even though there were times Lewis was actually scared of how much speed he could get on his bike rolling down it, it was also the most fun. He swung his leg over the seat and adjusted his stance with his right foot on the right pedal. He hopped a bit to keep his balance and shifted back and forth to get the most perfect position. Gillian waited patiently. Owen gave a little cry so she reached out with a hand to his chest, tucking beneath the top of the blanket, to remind him that she was still right there. Her finger pushed against the tab on his torso that kept track of his breathing. For a split second she wondered what it was and then, of course, she knew, how could she forget? She kept her eyes on her eldest boy, walking miracle number one, as she gave her youngest son a little nudge.

"You watch Mum," Lewis said again, turning his head to speak over his shoulder, point with his fingers again.

"I'm watching," she said, making sure her voice was a little bit louder so his hearing aids would pick up her words, pointing to her own eyes, then to him.

Lewis pushed off and wobbled while he gained his balance and brought his left foot to its pedal, but then as he reached the edge of the garage and started to descend the short sharp slope, he gained his confidence and rolled down it. He didn't pedal. He didn't want to go faster. He raced to the end of the drive, where it dipped down to the gutter by the street and eased on the hand brakes so he came to a relatively smooth stop, like his Daddy had taught him. He leaned to the left and climbed down and looked back up at his mother, grinning widely.

Gillian smiled and gave him a 'thumbs up'. She watched as he turned the bike in a wide arc to the footpath and aligned it again. He went through his little ritual before preparing to push off once more. He headed left to the end of the block, Gillian knew, even though she couldn't see. A few moments later he reappeared and went by the house to head down to the other block. Owen gave a little gurgle. Gillian turned her head to see him. He gave her a smile and she grinned back. "That'll be you one day," Gillian told him. "A big boy riding your bike up and down the block."

Cal was sleeping in. Considering Gillian had to get up anyway to feed Owen, she didn't mind also supervising some bike riding with Lewis on a Saturday morning. The sun was bright against a blue sky and it was going to be a beautiful day. Gillian had a coat on though, because it was still cold and she made Lewis put on a jacket. She watched him go by the house again. He attempted a wave, but it was brief, and his bike swerved erratically while there was less control. Gillian laughed lightly to herself, mostly at the expression of panic Lewis pulled before he got the vehicle under control again. So damn cute sometimes.

Most of the time.

Gillian waited for Lewis to go back the other way, to the right again, and turned to check on Owen. He waved a hand under the blanket and Gillian leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Gillian moved away and pulled open the back passenger door of her car. She fished around for rubbish; mostly Lewis's discarded wrappers from snacks, or tissues from wiping his face. She took them to the trash further down in the laundry, seeing Lewis go by out of the corner of her eye. She heard Owen give another cry, of discontent this time, and Gillian went to him again. "What?" She asked softly. She rocked his car seat back and forth a little. "Did I go too far away?" She shifted the blanket away from his face a small amount to see him better, or just make sure his mouth wasn't obscured. "Or are you just jealous your big brother gets to ride and you don't, huh?"

There was a sudden cry from the street and Gillian turned her head sharply to source the anguish. Lewis had reached the corner of their property. He must have made the turn into the driveway too sharply because his wheel had caught in the gap between the garden and concrete and the poor boy had spilled onto the pavement, his right leg caught under his bike. Lewis gave another loud wail but he hadn't completely lost it.

Gillian gave Owen another quick rock and headed down the driveway quickly to her other son. "What happened?" She asked when she was closer. She picked up his bike easily and surveyed the damage quickly while she leaned it against the fence. Lewis was moving all right, and he wasn't crying, though he didn't look at all happy, so nothing could be broken, otherwise he'd be really howling. Right? Gillian stooped to where he was sitting brushing off the palms of his hands gingerly. "Are you ok baby?" She put her arms around him in a side embrace, wanting to scoop him up but finding it harder now that he was bigger and her breastfeeding boobs set her off balance.

"My hands hurt," Lewis pouted. His lip quivered a little and his cheeks were red. He signed gingerly, like he didn't even want to move them into different poses.

"Come inside so I can have a look," Gillian moved back to see his face, giving a quick indication of the house.

Lewis slowly got to his feet. He winced again. "Ow my knee!" He wailed again, favouring his left side and gripping his right trouser leg to keep the material away from his skin.

"Let me have a look," Gillian reached for it.

"Be careful!" Lewis pleaded, singing a rapid 'K'.

"I will," Gillian carefully lifted his trouser leg. His knee was raw and bleeding. "Ok let's go inside to clean it up ok?" She told him, looking up into his face. He had tears in his eyes now and she felt the phantoms of his pain in her knees and groin. And an overwhelming urge to suddenly break into tears herself. She knew if she broke down Lewis would too. He was being so brave so far. And she really didn't want Cal in her face telling her she was mothering too much. Sometimes, that really pissed her off. Mostly because she knew he was right.

Gillian stood and guided her son back to the house. He limped slowly along just in front of her and complained and snuffled a little, but he _was_ trying so hard to be so brave. Owen called out loudly from his car seat and Gillian hushed him softly, grabbing the carrier on her way by. In the living room Gillian made Lewis sit on the couch. She put Owen of the coffee table and crouched in front of her eldest boy. He was seriously trying not to cry. She unclipped his helmet to see him better and wiped the little droplets under his eyelids. "Hey it's ok," she told him. "It's just a scratch ok?" She didn't know 'scratch' so she used 'little' and 'hurt' instead.

"It's broken!" Lewis wailed, still holding on to his trouser leg.

"It's not broken," Gillian assured him, still trying not to cry, but also, trying not to laugh. "Wait here ok? I'll go and get the first aid kit and be right back."

"Will you fix it?" Lewis asked, looking up at her pitifully?

'_Aw geeze_,' Gillian thought. She told him 'yes', though she couldn't take his pain away. Bubble wrap. Really good idea. Cal totally jinxed it. Gillian went to the pantry and grabbed the kit from one of the higher shelves. She also got a bowl of warm water and went back to where Lewis was still sitting stiffly, as if even breathing was hurting him right now. Gillian put her tools on the table beside her and got Lewis to lift his leg to her knee. She rolled back his trouser leg to reveal his knee. The blood had started to run down his shin and he gave an almighty wince when he made visual contact and sucked in a few deep breaths quickly. He was really going to hate her for what she had to do next.

Owen gave a little grizzle so Gillian gave his car seat another nudge to get it rocking slightly. Then she found a bottle of antiseptic and added some to the bowl of water. She got a ball of cotton wool from the first aid box and dipped it in the water, squeezing out the excess slightly. She turned back to Lewis who was watching her carefully. His tears had stopped and he seemed wary. Gillian debated over warning him it was going to hurt. Would that really make it better or worse?

She told him it was going to hurt, but she also explained to him that it would help get any bugs out or bits of stone, even though the graze looked relatively clean in that respect. Lewis flinched and cried out when the sting of the antiseptic hit the open wound. He started crying again and Gillian felt the sting of tears in her own eyes.

Shit. This sucked.

She cleaned away the blood quickly and then blasted the wound with more antiseptic spray and applied healing cream, through which Lewis continued to cry quietly. Oh god it made her feel worse, that he was trying to be brave, when it probably stung like a bitch. She pressed a massive band aid over his knee and gently set his foot on the floor. "Ok?" She asked him. He nodded pitifully. "You're so brave," she told him soothingly. Interestingly, the sign for 'brave' was also the same as 'strong'.

Gillian made him hold out his hands next so she should see the damage there too. The skin wasn't broken, just a little raw and there were black flecks of dirt and concrete imbedded in his palms. "Aw baby," Gillian murmured. She smoothed her fingers against his tiny wrists and pressed a kiss against his forehead. Lewis reached around her arms to hug her and Gillian shifted her own around his small body to do the same. She gave him a squeeze and then had a panicked thought that Owen was too quiet for too long. She extricated herself from Lewis, hoping he wouldn't sense her urgency to get away from him. Owen had nodded off to sleep. And yes he was still breathing.

Gillian used another cotton ball to clean the crap off of Lewis's palms but that was about all they needed. He winced and tried to pull away from her. Gillian used her fingers to wipe the last of the little dots of tears that were under his bottom eyelids. She gave him a tentative smile and he looked up at her balefully. No wonder Cal caved so often under that expression. It could melt butter. In an arctic snow storm. The poor guy. Her poor baby. "Ok sweetheart?" She asked him again, ditching the dirty cotton bud to press kisses against his hands. "Better?" She asked.

He nodded but he said, "Me knee hurts," and smacked his right fist against his left index finger harshly.

"I know baby I'm sorry," Gillian offered. "Shall we go up and see if Dad's awake? You can cuddle up with him in bed for a while."

"Can I watch a movie?" He brought his right hand up behind his left, with the right hand fingers pointing up towards the ceiling, and his left hand with the palm down parallel to the floor. He moved his right hand fingers back and forth, like he was waving.

"Sure baby," she smoothed the hair from his forehead. Thank god he was wearing a helmet. But seriously, bubble wrap.

"I maybe pick a movie?"

"Any movie," Gillian promised.

Lewis eased himself to the edge of the couch and stood. He immediately shifted the weight off his damaged right knee and winced. He wasn't being overly dramatic, the poor kid. He turned back to look at her, one hand on the coffee table, as he used it as a prop to help walk towards the stack of DVD's beside the TV. "Shh Wen's asleep."

"I know," Gillian nodded. She made sure he was all right and resisted the urge to carry him, instead returning the first aid kit to its home on the shelf and putting the rubbish in the trash. When she was finished, Lewis had a DVD in both hands, reading the back of it, or staring intently at the pictures. Gillian went back over to him, rather than calling out. "Are you ready?"

"Uh hm," Lewis nodded.

"Ok. Let's go hop into bed." She picked up Owen and walked with Lewis patiently while the poor invalid limped and stumbled his way across the room and up the stairs. The stairs were worse. All that climbing and knee bending. When they reached the top, Gillian pushed on the master bedroom door and they both poked their heads in. "Hey," Gillian greeted Cal, who was awake, but still had the curtains closed.

"Hey." And then he sat up further as Lewis hobbled into the room, holding his DVD in one hand, his other gripped his trousers, even though the right leg was still rolled up past his wound now. "What happened?"

"I had accident," Lewis noted with a sigh. His demeanour was resigned: oh well, here I am, but I'm strong.

Cal looked to Gillian. "Lewis fell off his bike."

"Aw munchkin. What's the damage?"

Lewis reached is father and shoved the DVD at him. "We watch this one Dad." He used 'movie' again.

Cal noted the cover as Gillian put Owen down on the end of the bed. "Oh '_The Wizard of Oz'?_ Sure. Why not. Haven't seen it in ages." He handed it to Gillian who went to put it in the player across the room. He helped Lewis into bed carefully, shifting over to give the boy room.

"I got a sore on here and here," Lewis showed him his hands. "And here," he peeled back his trouser leg further to show his father his knee. There was a damp patch on the bandage now where the healing cream had soaked through.

"Poor guy," Cal kissed the top of his head. "You wanna hang out with me for a while huh?"

"Lewis needs to convalesce," Gillian told him.

"Course. Course," Cal agreed, settling back against the pillow, pulling his son against his side. "Are you gonna come and convalesce with us?" He asked Gillian.

"Sure. I'll go close the garage first."

"Right," Cal agreed.

Gillian gave him the remote, checked on Owen and started to head for the door.

"You need some tickle monsta?"

Gillian turned back to watch.

"No," Lewis pouted.

"Ok," Cal agreed. He lay still for a moment. Then reached over with his hand and wiggled his fingers. "Are you sure?"

"No Dad!" Lewis told him firmly.

"Ok," Cal caved again. "Just the movie then." He turned his head to plant a kiss against Lewis's hair. As he moved his head to face the TV again, he saw Gillian standing half out the door. He gave her a sympathetic quirk of his mouth and she returned it. Then she signed 'brave' and Cal looked to Lewis, then back to her and nodded. Gillian gave him a slight smile, pointed to him and then 'son' before she disappeared into the hall.


	123. Chapter 123

Gillian clicked the confirm box and then it asked her again if she was really truly sure she wanted to do the transaction and she said 'yes' again and the computer went ahead and processed payroll for her. She updated her spreadsheet and saved it and by the time she had done that, the money had transferred from The Lightman Group account into various employee accounts. She closed all open programmes on her computer desktop and set the computer to sleep. That was her morning duties out of the way and now she could feel free to focus on some actual case work.

Of course, now that she was less focussed on her computer, to the left side of her workspace, she was suddenly so much more aware of the fact that she and her husband had snuck into her office last night to have sex on the other half of the desk. Right there in fact. Thinking about it now sent a little shiver of delighted naughtiness through her. Seriously. Sex on her desk. How much of a sordid turn on was that? And who would have thought that she would even go for something like that? She was supposed to be the good girl. Although Cal had always denied that.

It brought a smile to Gillian's lips again, when she thought back to those times when she had been married to Alec and Cal would think things about her. He had told her about them, some of them, perhaps not all of them, eventually. Not when she was married to Alec, but when she was married to him. And now when Gillian thought about them it made her smile, kind of pleased, that he had been fantasising about her when she was so completely unattainable, whereas even a few years ago, it had somehow felt like cheating or somehow... dishonouring the memory of being with Alec. But as time went by and memories faded, it just made her smile. That her husband loved her even back then. It was kind of... flattering. And secretive... and there was something sexy about sneaking around. Wasn't that why, when eventually they had got together, they had kept it to themselves for a while? At least partly.

There was a knock against the glass of Gillian's office which drew her focus to the door and away from thoughts of the past and, as always, her husband. Loker pushed against the door, letting himself in. "Good morning," he greeted.

"Morning," Gillian responded, feeling strangely warm. It wasn't like he knew what she was thinking about, or even what she and Cal had done in this very room on that very desk the night before. There was no way Loker could know. She had to play it cool, least she gave it away. Cal did accuse her of being a terrible liar.

"Hey so I was just wondering if you could take a look at this?" Eli stepped closer to her desk and handed over a folder. Gillian took it with an 'uh huh'. It was a series of letters. A computer programme had already run through the text to highlight significant words or key phrases.

"Which case is this?" Gillian mused as she scanned through the document.

Eli took a seat opposite her and gave her a quick rundown of the case history, the leads so far and where he was thinking it was headed. He wanted a second opinion on the likely author of the letters; the wife or a possible girlfriend.

"Were they dated?"

"Two months ago," Loker clarified.

Gillian went back to reading. The computer programme had done its job. "What were the profiles from the computer analysis?"

"Female. Late twenties to forties based on word choice. A few grammatical errors and spelling."

"Hand written?" Gillian asked of the originals.

"Yep."

Which meant it was more likely that the woman who wrote the letters was older but really, in this era that meant nothing. Everyone knew how to use a computer. The messages could have even been written on a phone and emailed before printed. But hand written didn't necessarily indicate the woman was of an older pre-computer generation. It could mean there wasn't easy access to a computer. Or a number of different things. But Gillian's gut told her it was a generational technological reasoning. Especially if she compared that assumption to the evidence Loker had already uncovered about the case and the people involved.

"I think it's the wife," Gillian shuffled through the papers and showed him why. The penmanship and terminology, a few other things, not a lot that was helpful but even sometimes Indiana Jones had to close his eyes and take a leap of faith to find the bridge safely but invisibly under his feet. If she was wrong, if Eli went down the wrong path, it would only set him back in time, not his life.

Indiana Jones? Too much children's gaming in her house.

"Great thanks," Loker took the file she offered back to him and she gave him a smile to say it wasn't a big deal. But before he did stand to leave, his hand drifted down again. He leaned to the floor, disappearing from Gillian's view and she wondered what he was doing; tying his shoe? He reappeared quickly with a pen in his grasp.

"That was behind the chair," he noted and Gillian suddenly realised how a pen would end up on the floor on that side of her desk. Sudden images of Cal, the dirty hot heat of their love making and the way their voices bounced off the wall in ecstasy, had her blushing. Loker pushed the pen onto her desk and she mumbled a 'thank you', gesturing the folder to him again. She avoided his eye as he took it, like that would detract him from the heat on her face. He stood in a smooth motion and she reached for the pen. She thought she had found them all last night when they were clearing up. She was so going to go and get something to clean her desk with too. Bleach. Right now. So she could make sure she had not missed something, now that she could see in the light of day.

"Thanks," Loker told her again and headed for the door.

"Uh huh," Gillian forced a reply and a smile to his retreating back. She had to stop herself from rushing past him to get the cupboard where their cleaners kept various products. Industrial strength. She waited for him to disappear down the corridor before she went for the door. If he worked it out, and told someone, she would never live it down. Never. And she would so make Cal suffer along with her. He thought it was funny, he liked to tease and he liked to see her squirm but the shoe would be incredibly awkward if it was on the other foot; he was also very private. It would piss him right off if anyone said something to him about his relationship with Gillian. So armed with a backup plan of blackmail should she need it, Gillian headed out of her office and down the corridor.


	124. Chapter 124

Gillian heard her phone chime and the darker buzz of the vibration that said she had a text message. But she didn't reach for the device immediately, not while she was driving. She did risk a quick glance to the passenger seat and could see that it was from Cal, before the screen went dark again. And it set her stomach on a nervous edge. She thought about pulling over so she could read what the message said; she was tempted. But she didn't. She waited until she got home. She pulled into her driveway and set the handbrake, then reached for her phone in the top of her handbag on the passenger seat of her car, her seat belt tightening against the change in angle of her body. When she straightened up again she opened the message with one hand and turned the engine off with the other.

**RIGHT BEHIND U**

Gillian turned her head slightly as headlights lit her up from behind. They cut out and Gillian put her phone back in her bag, disengaged the keys and her seatbelt and stepped out of her car. An echoing slam came from behind her and she looked over to double check; yes it was Cal. And he was wearing his long dark coat that for some reason made her stomach quiver again. Some reason? Nope she knew the reason. It made him look sexy. And it had been a very long day. Sometimes this sneaking around and not telling anyone was torturous. She was too paranoid to even look at him too long in case... How could he stand it? She wanted him.

Gillian went to her front door and started to unlock it and felt the presence of Cal step up silently behind her, a little too close for innocence. Although, who was she kidding? Her neighbours had probably long figured out she was seeing someone. When the locked turned Gillian removed her keys and reached for the handle. And so did Cal. His hand was freezing cold and she flinched away from his grip, dropping her hand back to her side. He leaned against her as he turned the handle and his body was warm. He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck and her knees just about gave out with wanting him. She just wanted him. She missed him. It was ridiculous but even after every night together for weeks now, she still wanted him just as much as when they started.

With the door open, Gillian forced herself to move forward. She stepped inside and reached for the light, giving Cal enough space to come in behind her. She slung her bag to the floor as the door clicked shut and turned towards him as he turned towards her and then his mouth was on hers and she felt weak again. He pushed her gently into the wall, his hands on her hips, his lips moving to her neck. Gillian gave a contented sigh and felt the swirls of turmoil still. "I wasn't sure you'd come," she murmured as he found a soft point under her ear that made her shiver.

"Cos I disagreed with you ova the Fillion case?"

"Yes," Gillian whispered, the scratch of his beard also incredibly dangerous. He pressed in closer against her, so she could feel his thighs against hers and his hands, smoothing around her waist.

"I'd be damnin' both of us to a life of celibacy if I stayed mad at you every time we disagreed at work," Cal noted and then he suddenly pulled his head back and Gillian opened her eyes to see what was wrong. She didn't realise they were even closed. The look on his face was surprise. Probably at the assumption he had just made.

"Probably," Gillian mused, her way of saying she agreed. It might have been a slip of the tongue, but she certainly did not envision herself with anyone else after him. There was no alternative now. She was pretty much committed to making it work with him, or not at all. And he was thinking the same thing? That was nice. She smiled and Cal gave a slight grin before kissing her again. She felt his hands moving and brought her own up to smooth against his neck, through the short hair just a little further up. She was getting to know him so well, every inch of him.

And then icy coldness against the soft skin of her stomach. She flinched hard, pushing against him, not moving him an inch. "Ow god no. Stop it!" She complained trying to shift her body away from his hand but she was already flat against the wall. "Cal," she whined, convulsing, trying to move him away. He was steadfast though and so was his damn icy cold hand. Did he just chuckle? Gillian's eyes came open again and yes, there was a slight grin there before he attempted to kiss her neck. Her hand pushed against his head and he did move away but his hand didn't, no matter how she tried to escape him. And then it didn't seem so bad and she relaxed.

Too soon. He flattened his palm against the curve of her waist and the sharp shock of the coldness startled her again. "Cold!" She complained. "What's wrong with you?"

Cal gave that annoying little laugh again. "Warm me up."

"No," Gillian tried to shove him again.

"You'll get used to it," Cal told her softly and ugh she would drop kick him if she could even get enough leverage right now. But he was irritatingly right, after just a few seconds his hand didn't feel so traumatic and she relaxed once more. It was probably stupid, to relax, to trust him...

"Happy now?" Gillian huffed.

"Incredibly," Cal murmured, kissing her again. And he had a way, such a way, that made her forget to even breathe, so she didn't register his hands moving again. She didn't really comprehend that they were still standing by her front door and that moments ago she had been thinking about how she was hungry and that it had been a long day. What she was thinking about right now was him. Always him...

Gillian felt a tug on her shirt and Cal pulled away suddenly. When Gillian opened her eyes he was giving her another surprised expression and she wondered what the problem was this time. He looked down and she did too. Her black shirt was open, revealing a black bra. She liked black and so did Cal; it made her feel sexy. So what was the big deal?

"Snaps," Cal noted.

Oh that.

Gillian gave him a smirk. "You seemed to have an issue with buttons."

Cal broke into a grin and chuckled. He leaned in to kiss her again. "You're terrible."

Gillian tugged the hair at the back of his head, bringing his face back so she could talk to him. "Bedroom."


	125. Chapter 125

Gillian finally pushed away from her husband and he gave her those crystal blue puppy dog eyes that made her stomach quiver all over again. "Stop," she murmured, fending off a lurking hand beneath the covers.

"Stay," Cal countered softly.

"I need the bathroom," she whined.

Cal gave a sigh and flopped back against his pillow and Gillian escaped out of the other side of the bed. She walked naked around the room to the bathroom, stepping over the yellow hard hat on the carpet, where it had obviously fallen from Cal's head the night before. He watched her blatantly, so she could feel the heat of his eyes on her bare skin. It almost half changed her mind. She closed the door and even though she couldn't see him anymore she could still think about him thinking about her, and last night, and that was so not going to serve her well when she was trying to use the toilet.

Gillian was washing her hands when the bathroom door pushed open and she was confronted with a sheepish Cal. "Need the loo too," he told her. While he lifted the lid Gillian leaned in to turn on the shower, seeing as they were both up... She waited, to give him a little privacy, with her hand under the water, until it started to run warm. And when it was she hopped in. It wasn't like she had anything on to actually take off. A few moments later and Cal was there, leaning in to wash his hands under her water. She protested so he bullied his way in completely, even though he had underwear on.

Gillian wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging on, pressing herself against his chest. He gave her a pleased smile, his hands coming to her waist. Gillian ducked her head under the water to kiss his neck. She shifted to his ear. "Thank you for last night," she murmured.

"You're welcome," Cal responded.

Gillian pressed against the roughness of his cheek, then his lips. "I really enjoyed it," she told him sincerely.

Cal's smile became a slight chuckle. "Was totally worth it for so little effort."

"Hmm," Gillian gave a slight eye roll. She gave him another quick kiss, made a point of observing him in his underwear, then turned her back to wash. The hot water stung against certain points of her body and she figured Cal had either bit her, or scratched, or something along those lines. It wouldn't be the first time. She had certainly had her fair share of carpet burns and bite marks and scratches and bruises. So had Cal. They didn't even hurt that bad this time.

Gillian stepped out and left Cal the water. She reached for a towel, did a quick dry off, before wrapping the towel around her body and stepping up to the mirror. She had no idea what time it was and her children, had blessedly, left them to sleep in. Or maybe their parents were up early. Cal had most thoroughly put her into a relaxed state last night so Gillian had had an amazing sleep, and now she felt energised; she wouldn't even mind if she was up early today.

The first thing Gillian did after the shower was tone. She reached for the spray bottle off the vanity and spritzed it over her face, closing her eyes against the cool wetness. When she opened her eyes again, to re-cap the bottle, she caught sight of her neck. The water stopped and the shower door banged open. Gillian put the bottle down and leaned in closer to the mirror. There was a red welt on her neck, a strawberry field the size of a small apple, just around from her ear. "Oh shit," said Cal from behind her. Gillian turned on him. He was wrapping a towel around his waist and water ran in droplets down his body, over the muscles and tatoos. "That was an accident," Cal went on. Gillian pointed a finger in accusation. Cal stepped towards her quickly. "It was an accident. I'm sorry. I got carried away last night."

"You," Gillian started, narrowing her eyes. How was she going to cover that up? Wear a massive, obvious scarf?

"It's Sunday, it'll go down."

"You're," Gillian tried again but she found she couldn't be mad at him. Lucky for him his expression was sincere. And last night had been incredible. Actually he looked a little concerned. And yeah it would go down before Monday but she was still going to have to do some sort of make-up job or...

"Uh Mum?"

The voice made them both turn, Gillian raising a hand to her towel to make sure it was still in place. And closed. Lewis was in the bathroom doorway, a hand against the barrier to push it open a little more, checking to see what was going on inside before coming in. "Owen's asleep in the hall."

"What?" Gillian asked confused.

"Yeah he's out there asleep," Lewis repeated, resting his head against his hand. Cal headed towards him, ruffling his hair as he went by to see. Lewis followed him and Gillian tagged on the end. When she reached the open bedroom door she stopped, crowding around her husband and son. Yep. Owen was really there, asleep on the carpet, in his pyjamas, curled up in a ball, right in front of the doorway, his head against the frame.

"Did you hear him leave your room?" Cal asked in a low murmur, signing every word for Lewis.

Lewis nodded. "He said he could hear noises and went to see what you were doing."

Gillian felt heat flood her face. So he _had_ heard them. And he had... knocked? She didn't remember hearing him knock.

"And did he come back to bed?" Cal asked, dripping on the carpet.

Lewis gave a shrug. "I went to sleep."

So the poor kid must have been out there all night. "Cal," Gillian murmured.

"Should I wake him up?" Cal gave her a slight wince.

"Put him in our bed," Gillian told him.

"Hang on," Cal turned towards her and got closer.

"What?" She stepped aside to let get by.

"I'm gonna get dressed first. Before I lose my towel and end up... exposin' myself."


	126. Chapter 126

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

Gillian looked up at the eight year olds all hopping around the living room, jumping and calling out while Owen set the movie up to watch. He called up the 'on demand' function of their sky box expertly, using the TV remote. The other boys then turned to jostle for good seating. Anywhere in that room was good seating; all the furniture was orientated around the television. From what Gillian could see, from the kitchen, where she was preparing movie snacks, Owen and his three friends piled onto the three-seater, while Lewis, the almost-teenager, commandeered the love seat, by lying all over it. So Gillian figured, two for the kids to share and one for Lewis. She got three large bowls from the cupboard next to the stove.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Cal spoke as he crossed to where she was opening a bag of potato chips. He planted a rough kiss on her cheek, then turned to toss his keys onto the breakfast bar. "Class went ova."

"I figured," Gillian responded.

"Too much talkin'," Cal went on, leaning his ass against the bench, watching her.

"Uh huh."

"Me. Too much talkin'," Cal clarified.

Gillian gave him a smile.

"Can I help with somethin'?"

"It's ok, the kids are going to watch a movie before dinner."

Cal looked over at the boys on the couch. Owen had started the movie. At the bottom of the screen subtitled prompts indicated orchestral music was playing during the opening production sequences. Gillian finished with doling out chips and took two of the bowls to the couch. "Incoming," she warned as she lowered the snacks to the boys laps. Cal had followed her with the third, and correctly deduced it was for Lewis. Lewis thanked him after saying hello. Gillian went back to the kitchen while Cal said hello to Owen's friends.

Gillian was making pizza for dinner, with hot chips. Of course the main course was actually dessert. Owen picked ice cream and jelly and obviously, there would be birthday cake too; something disgustingly chocolaty of which Gillian totally approved. When Cal came back he hovered in close, while Gillian opened the last frozen pizza box and placed the food inside on an oven tray.

"Who's that foreign child?"

"Which foreign child?" Gillian asked, looking up, as if they might have magically multiplied when she turned her back.

"The otha one with the light brown hair."

Gillian took about two seconds to identify who it was her husband was actually talking about. She thought about being a smart ass and responding that that was their son, Lewis, but instead she said: "Mase." She looked up to find Cal giving her a frown. "Mason," she elaborated. "Owen's friend, Mason."

"Oh. So, not one of ours you forgot to tell me about?"

"Yes. I've been keeping him hidden for the last eight years," Gillian responded dryly, putting the plastic sealant into the trash beneath the sink. She should have gone for a smart ass response.

"I've not seen him before," Cal went on.

"I think he's new," Gillian mused.

"Obviously," Cal noted.

"Not to us, to the school," Gillian clarified, bending the cardboard box in half and putting it with the others she had already opened and discarded on the edge of the bench, that she would probably make Lewis go and take down to the recycling in the garage.

"Oh right."

"Why are those words on the movie?" The blond haired Scott asked suddenly and loudly, drawing the attention of the adults in the kitchen across the room, sitting forward on the couch to talk to Owen further down.

"They're subtitles," Owen told him as if it were obvious.

"What are they there for?"

"Cos Lewis has them," Owen answered matter-of-factly.

Cal looked at Gillian briefly but he needn't have warned her. She was listening and watching, waiting to see what would happen next; wondering if she should intervene. She could feel Cal tensing next to her, preparing to do the same. He was more sensitive to Lewis's hearing at the moment, now that their boy was older and having to deal with school; never ending school problems. It had cut Gillian up about his hearing when he was little but now it was Cal who was having the harder time letting it go. It wasn't guilt, where he came from, but still a desire to protect his son. They both had to realise that Lewis was getting older and that he needed to deal with his problems on his own, which was tough, but he did have to learn his own way, his own technique, something that was affective. Not that this was a problem. Nope. Owen was a stubborn little man and he quickly told his friends to shut up, that the subtitles were staying on so his brother didn't miss the movie and though he didn't voice it, he was practically adding that they should just deal with it. But he left it at that: shut up, they're staying on.

Cal turned to Gillian again. His blue eyes met hers heavily. He didn't say anything though. But she knew.

Your son.

Happy birthday Owen.


	127. Chapter 127

When Gillian came in she actually looked a little pale. Cal jumped up from his seat, concerned. She gave him a ghostly smile as he reached her and pulled her into a hug. He held her for a moment, then gave a tight squeeze and shifted back a little to see her face. Her bag slipped from her shoulder into the crook of her arm and it banged against Cal's leg. He shifted his hand out of the way to allow her to straighten her arm. The strap of her bag slid to her hand.

"Well?" Cal took her by the elbow and guided her to the couch, the love seat, so he could sit nice and close and kind of, enclose them in together. "Everythin' all right?"

"Where are the boys?"

"Down the block, playin' with the new neighba."

"Ok," Gillian pulled her bag to her lap and produced a white envelope. She passed it over to Cal and he wasn't sure what to expect. He wondered if he should be looking. This was her mother's money. Though to be fair, even he and Gillian had pretty much dispensed with their separate accounts at this point. As the years went by, what was his was more and more what was hers.

Cal opened the unsealed envelope and pulled out the letter. He unfolded it and quickly scanned down the page and when he saw the numerical amount left to Gillian as her inheritance his eyes actually bulged. "Good lord," he uttered.

"I know," Gillian murmured.

Cal looked up at her, slightly incredulous. "Are you kiddin' me?"

"No," Gillian shook her head. "The money's already been put into our account."

Cal folded up the letter again and put it back in its envelope to give himself time to think things through. Gillian had had a call from the lawyer dealing with her late mother's estate. Her will had been read. The last thing to do was divvy up the assets. Gillian and Matthew had got the house and the car, and were still deciding what to do with the house; the car had already been sold. Cal voted for keeping the property; could be a sound investment. But now there was this. He didn't know what to say first. Too many burning questions.

Gillian took the envelope and put it back into her bag. She put the bag on the floor and then she turned back to her husband, folding her hands in her lap, expectant. Cal watched her for a moment. There seemed to be more colour to her skin. "So," Cal started.

"I don't know," Gillian responded but that didn't answer his unasked question. Any one of them to be honest. Gillian frowned suddenly. "Wait, what?" She gave him earnest blue eyes, realising she didn't know what he was asking.

"That's... quite a considerable amount," Cal pointed out.

"Yes," Gillian agreed.

"From your fartha?"

"I'd say most of it is yes."

"Right," Cal nodded. David had had a business and after his death, well Cal didn't know all the details, but he knew his half of it had been sold. That was probably where Dana had got the money. Because she had never been anything but a housewife her whole life. "What are you gonna do with it?"

"I don't know," Gillian winced and seemed to deflate. She fell against Cal and he brought up his arms again to hold her. So that was what was on her mind.

"Could invest it," Cal responded sagely. "Buy anotha house. Would set you up with a passive income."

Gillian pulled back to look him in the eye. "Us. It could give _us_ a passive income."

Cal didn't answer. He didn't want to assume. Actually, he wasn't sure he was comfortable with just being given a large sum of money from his in-laws. Nothing had ever been handed to him on a plate and he was certainly not accustomed to having something that was not really his.

"Boys' college fund," Cal countered. They were, after all, directly related to Dana and David. That eased the tightness in Cal's chest. "We don't have to talk about this," he added quickly. It seemed wrong to quickly decide how to divide the money.

"But I do want to talk. About this. If that's ok? I don't know what to do with the money," Gillian admitted stiltedly. "And it's a lot. It's not just, we shouldn't just... spend it on TV's or cars."

"No, right, agree with that."

Gillian nodded firmly and moved again to lean against him. "We could invest it in the Group."

"Sure, yeah," because that wasn't an entirely stupid idea. Not that the Lightman Group needed a cash injection, because it was viable just as it was, successful even. To be honest, they'd probably struggle to find ways to even spend the money at the Group.

"Or start a portfolio or somethin'," Cal went on. "I dunno luv. I'm not good with money rememba? That's your thing luv."

Gillian's hand smoothed along Cal's thigh in a comforting gesture. "You do just fine," she told him absently. "But sure, investments. I haven't done that before either."

"You can pay a guy to do that kind of thing for you," Cal pointed out.

"Well there is that."

Cal relaxed a little, further into the couch. Good. Well that felt a bit more settled then. "Not that you have to make a decision right now."

"We," Gillian corrected gain. "_We_ don't have to make a decision right now."

"It's your parent's money."

"And you're my husband. If I die you'll end up with the money anyway."

"Take that back," Cal demanded a little bit more sharply than he intended. He meant it as a joke but actually, the thought of her dying, that cut him, that... he didn't even want to think about that.

Gillian avoided his eye. "We're family aren't we?" She asked softly. "The money is the kids' as well."

"Well then... we should do somethin' with the money as a family."

Gillian looked up at him again. She was quiet for a moment and then she said, "Like a vacation?"

"Yeah sure," Cal gave a slight nod. "We've not had a family holiday right?"

"No we've started planning them," Gillian mused. She must have seen something on Cal's face because she added, "Remember? Before your... accident." She hesitated. "Before Owen was even conceived."

Cal searched his memory quickly but came up blank. He shook his head slightly. "Sorry. Where were we headed?"

"We hadn't actually got that far. Just set aside the date and... We were going to do something fun with Lewis."

"Lewis has a birthday comin' up," Cal pointed out.

"And it's nearly summer. The weather would be beautiful," Gillian added.

"Now that sounds like plan."

Gillian smiled. "Ok. So where?"


	128. Chapter 128

When Cal woke, he really wanted to turn over and go back to sleep. Because he felt exhausted. But of course, Murphy's law, as soon as he realised he was actually awake he kept on waking up, his heart pumping vigorously, alerting his mind as well to the fact that he was no longer asleep. Bastard. And then he noticed he needed the bathroom and the only organs who were completely ignoring the wakeup call were his eyes. He had to sit on the edge of the bed and pry them open, blinking furiously to be able to actually see through the foggy blurriness.

Cal came back to the bedroom and climbed back into bed. Gillian was facing towards him, her eyes closed, her face peacefully slack, so that none of the lines in her face showed. Not that Cal could see that in particular, not without his glasses and hardly any light. But he knew. He knew her face. And he remembered last night. The ranting and raving; the anger and anguish. His heart broke for her a little bit more; the last part that had not shattered last night, when she told him things about her childhood he had never known before. The poor woman.

And if she was going to talk about her childhood it got him thinking about his. He didn't consider himself to have had a great one. His mother had killed herself. That certainly counted lower on the scale than Gillian's alcoholic father and co-dependent mother. But only just. The difference between them, between Cal and Gillian, was merely in the way they had coped. Then and now. Cal wasn't a hundred percent sure he had really even dealt with all the shit from his childhood; it still played on his mind from occasion. But it did not eat him up in the same way it did for Gillian. Or maybe it was because he had been forced to deal with it so long ago, to stop himself from becoming his mother. And now all Gillian's buttons were being pushed and she had to stop herself from becoming her mother too. Maybe that was it.

Cal didn't know, he couldn't pretend to know and he didn't know where to begin in even understanding. His knowledge of the human psyche was more to do with how people hid their emotions and feelings, and how he could feret them out again. Whereas Gillian got into the 'why' and reasoned and explained. She could probably sit him down and tell him why she reacted the way she did, what it was about her personality that made her vulnerable... But Cal would have to wait for her to initiate any kind of conversation along those lines. He wasn't going to push her. Not on this subject.

After some serious staring Cal came to and realised his arm was killing him, from holding up his body weight. He shifted carefully and slowly, so he wouldn't jostle his wife, as he lay down again against the mattress, because that was a sure fire way to wake her. He was still on his back for a long time and just as he let his eyes flutter close, the exhaustion overwhelming him from behind, Gillian shifted. She stretched out, searching for him, and her hand came to his chest.

"Are you awake?" She murmured so softly it almost sounded as though the hiss of the sheets were louder.

"Yeah," Cal admitted.

Gillian came closer, bumping her knee against the edge of his thigh. Her arm extended over his torso until it curled around the edge of his ribs and her stomach was against his waist and then her head, in the crook of his neck. Oh, she gave the best hugs. The best.

"How you feelin' this mornin'?"

"Pretty crummy."

Cal chuckled, he couldn't help it, at her choice of words. Crummy. He'd not heard her say that one before.

"Is that funny to you?" Gillian asked sleepily.

"Not at all," Cal whispered back. "Sorry luv. I'm sorry you feel crummy."

His tone was so sincere it made Gillian shift to look up at him. Her blue eyes were glazy with sleepiness. Then she frowned and lowered her head again. "How badly did I sound like a lunatic last night?"

"Not at all luv," Cal reassured her, shifting his arm to place his hand at her elbow, about as much of an embrace as he could manage right now. With his right hand, the one Gillian was practically lying on, he searched for her other hand. Gillian slipped her fingers into his and he gripped her tightly.

"Sounded pretty bad in my ears," Gillian noted.

"Sounded like some much needed healin'."

"I hope so. I hope that was the last of it. I hope it's all out now."

What Cal wanted to say was 'me too' but he meant it as a relief for her sake, not for his, because, even though he might have felt pretty lost last night, he would handle worse from her if it meant she found her peace on the subject. That was one hell of a piece of shrapnel she was working on there.

There was a soft tap at their door and then the handle turned slightly and hesitated. "Are we awake?" Cal asked his wife. She nodded yes and Cal called louder-than-polite for whoever that was at their door to come in. It was Lewis.

"Here's hope now," Cal murmured. He signed 'good morning' to his son. His son signed it back as he came around the bed, to his father's side. Probably because Gillian still had her eyes closed. She could be either asleep or faking it.

"Can I have cuddles?" Lewis asked.

"Of course," Cal nodded and shifted his hand from his wife's skin to push back the cover to indicate to Lewis that permission had been granted, just in case the kid hadn't heard him. He climbed in and they both settled the blanket around them again. Cal smoothed his hand over his boy's arm this time; skinny little guy.

"I miss Grandma," Lewis noted.

"Me too," Gillian spoke up.

Lewis pushed himself up and leaned over his father's chest to place a kiss on his mother's head. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a smile. She brought her fingers to her mouth, her hand straight, then moved it towards him. Lewis smiled and held up his hand, his pinky, index and thumb extended with the other fingers curled down against his palm.

"Me too," Gillian said again.


	129. Chapter 129

Cal was a really good kisser. Really good. And Gillian found sometimes she spent quite a bit of time thinking about kissing him, or him kissing her, or just him. She was still falling. Falling, falling, head over heels. It scared her, how far and how fast she fell. She wanted to find the bottom, so she could regain her footing; so she could father herself again. Their first anniversary was coming up soon and Gillian also thought about how they might celebrate. Cal wasn't really one for expressing how he felt, but he did love her and so that had to count for something. Besides, it was a year. A whole year of them. Together. That was certainly worth noting. And surely he wouldn't object if they went out for a meal or something? They did that without an occasion. And so maybe it wasn't a big deal if he didn't buy her a present. If she wanted something in particular, she went out to get it herself. He didn't tend to buy her anything really, flowers or chocolate or other empty tokens. She didn't care much for material goods anyway. In the grand scheme of things they weren't important. Not as important as how she felt him about Cal. Or how he felt about her.

They were living together now and so there was no more sneaking to the other's place and having to pack bags and make sure there was a change of clothes. And everyone knew about them as well and it had almost been a year. A whole entire year of being with Cal. Gillian could feel things changing. They were cementing. They were getting serious. But she wasn't scared and more than anything she was relieved to see that neither was Cal. She would freely admit to reading his face, and thank god he was letting that mask down more and more. Because she needed to see. She needed to know. And she didn't want to ruin it by asking him, by having one of those annoying talks about 'feelings', or anything else he might shy away from.

Gillian looked up at herself in the bathroom mirror suddenly. That wasn't right. She was doing that? It suddenly struck her. She wasn't pushing for what she wanted because she was afraid he might... Well if he was Alec, she would fear he would go back to the drugs and if Cal were her father she was afraid that she might push him back to drinking. Gillian gripped the edge of the sink, her knees suddenly feeling weak and air was harder to get into her lungs. She was her mother.

She fought to _not_ be her mother.

And then Gillian pushed herself to stand on her own two feet, something she had been doing since she was fourteen, and had finally had enough. She was in charge of her own life and no one else was going to make it for her. She would never have gotten her doctorate if she hadn't pushed herself. She would never have even gone into business with Cal if she hadn't talked herself into taking that leap of faith. Gillian squared her shoulders and lowered her chin in determination. Cal was not going to walk out on her because she asked him for something that she needed. He was not that kind of man. He was not her father and he was not Alec. And if he was, well then, as much as she loved him, if he was going to behave like that? Then she was better off.

Cal was already in bed. Gillian turned out the bathroom light and closed the door. She headed around the bed to her side and slipped beneath the covers. Cal was reading, something, that looked like a journal article. But that couldn't be right because he didn't actually give a toss what the rest of the world was up to. She did like the look of him in his reading glasses. Gillian slid across the mattress towards him and smoothed a hand over his bare chest. Did she want something? Yes. She wanted him to kiss her.

He turned his head and gave her a slight smile. "All right?"

"Mh hmm," Gillian hummed and shifted in closer, propping herself up on an arm to reach his mouth. She pressed her lips against his. She felt his arm shift, the drop of the magazine against the bedspread, his hand at the back of her skull.

_What's that for?_ Was not a question Cal asked. He tossed the magazine to the floor and turned into her body and pressed against her. Parting his lips a little, encouraging her to do the same. Gillian liked how he kissed. So much. And mostly she liked that he never turned her away. Just like she would never turn him away.

"Wait," Cal murmured and drew back a little. His eyes were clear behind his glasses. "You smell different."

"I what?" Gillian responded, confused.

"You smell different," Cal repeated leaning into her neck and brushing his nose against her skin. It made her squirm and she figured he was just being funny but when he pulled away again his face was serious and his eyes were not laughing. "Why'd you smell different?"

"I don't know," Gillian answered.

"Where's the vanilla?" He leaned in again, breathing deeply against her shoulder.

Oh. Her body wash.  
>"I used something different."<p>

It was kind of strange being sniffed.

"I don't like it," Cal announced.

"It's mango and..."

"Nope," he cut her off. "I like the vanilla." And this time there was a lewd grin.

Gillian felt a flutter of something in her stomach. "I still have some of the vanilla left," she told him as though she was saying 'don't worry, I know where the secret escape hatch is located', 'don't worry, I have a little stash of food and water that will see us through', 'don't worry, I've organised a private plane to fly us out of this mess'.

"Brilliant. Where'd the mango come from?"

"It was a Christmas present," Gillian countered.

"From whom?" Cal queried in disgust.

"My nieces, but you'd know that if you'd come to Christmas with me this year."

Cal's face went serious again. "Well that was passive aggressive."

But Gillian had also heard exactly how she sounded just now. She rolled away from him, onto her back, with a sigh, and placed a hand over her eyes, like a sun shield, as she closed them. "I know," she nearly whispered. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that at all."

She felt Cal shift and when she opened her eyes he was resting his hip against hers and his hand was coming up to her elbow. He tugged her hand away from her eyes and gave her a sincere expression, so much more serious with his glasses on. "All right then. How did you mean it?"

Gillian swallowed. She hadn't quite had the chance to think this through. But this was what she was talking about, backing away from a conversation that could be difficult because she was afraid of shoving Cal away. Here he was asking her. And so she had to be careful with what said, not because she might offend him, but because she should communicate and not be a bitch about it. "I really wanted to spend Christmas with you this year."

"You could have," Cal countered. He was home with Emily for half the day, but that had coincided with Gillian's family Christmas get together and they had both already committed to each social event long before they had really started a relationship. Gillian wanted to be with Cal but he wouldn't budge on the time with Emily and Gillian wouldn't begrudge him it either. But that didn't mean she didn't want to be with him either.

"I didn't know it bothered me so much," Gillian gave a little frown.

Cal watched her impassively for a moment. "We'll have New Years togetha," he pointed out.

"I know," Gillian agreed. And she was going to love it. Because Cal had already reluctantly agreed to going to Ria's New Year's Eve party. She brought up a hand to run through his hair. He gave her a slight smile.

"But that's not it?" He pushed gently.

"I wanted to show you off to my family."

"Ah I see," Cal noted. He leaned up to give her a kiss and Gillian melted a little. "That's important to you, yeah?"

"Yeah," Gillian agreed. And it was time. She hadn't been hiding Cal but she had bought a house with him and her family hadn't met him yet. Which went against polite familial rules, according to her mother.

Cal gave a nod but he didn't make promises and Gillian had to give him credit for not immediately saying he would do something he didn't want to do, or wasn't ready to do, just to placate her. And Gillian supposed she would just have to wait and see. He often came around, but in his own time, and at least then, when he did, it came from a place of genuiness, and not some bull shit attempt to simply appease their relationship. And she liked that about him, about them.

So her niece Arianna had a birthday coming up and Gillian had already accepted an invitation to the six year olds party. And maybe she would mention it to Cal and see if he was ready then, to go with her, and meet her family. But that could wait. Right now, Gillian wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him in closer for another kiss. Cal pulled away again, his nose turned up in disgust. "I've half a mind to go make you showa again."

Gillian scoffed.

"Might join you."

She gave him a smile.


	130. Chapter 130

"Pop Pop?"

"Yes darlin'?"

"Santa bring me the dozer?"

Bulldozer. Yes, Santa _was_ bringing a bulldozer.

"He might. Have you been good?"

"I be good." Vigorous nodding.

"Then maybe," Cal responded optimistically, shifting the weight of the three year old on his hip as he hovered in front of the Christmas tree.

"Look at all the pretty things."

"Very pretty huh?" The fairy lights were on and the glow of them reflected off the silver ornaments, creating an echo effect.

"I like very much," Grace noted, reaching out to touch a silver bell. She had already been warned to be careful and so her movements were tentative, her little fingers cautious. Her face was reverent as they stood, watching the tree for a moment. They were waiting for Ethan to finish doing his teeth and be ready for bed. Then they'd put out the milk and cookies and all traipse upstairs to tuck the younger kids in. Ethan and Grace were bunking in with Owen. Lewis was crashing on the couch in the 'adult' living room, and Ajay and Emily were staying in the spare room. One big happy family.

"Hi what are you guys doing?" Gillian greeted, coming up behind them.

"Shhh," Grace brought a finger to her lips, all dark eyes and black curly hair and seriousness. "We're watching the fairies."

Cal turned his head slightly to see his wife's slight confusion. Her blue eyes sought his out of the dimness. "Fairy lights," he corrected.

"The fairy flies are making light," Grace told her Grandmother.

"Aren't they pretty?" Gillian responded.

"Fire flies," Cal suddenly clicked. "Those aren't fire flies." The boys had decorated the tree before the Resnick's had come to visit. So maybe Grace hadn't realised they were lights that plugged into the wall. Did she not put fairy lights on her own tree at home? Or was it that her parents had absently encouraged the illusion. "Fire flies live outside in the garden."

"We go see?" Grace asked, her liquid eyes on him.

Cal shook his head. "No it's bed time now."

"I'm not tired," Grace informed him.

"But Santa won't come until you're asleep," Gillian told her.

Grace screwed up her nose. "Then I sleep."

"Good idea," Cal agreed. "Are they ready?" He asked Gillian.

"Just about," Gillian murmured, holding out her hands to Grace to take her. The three year old leaned towards the older woman and Cal relinquished her reluctantly. Sweet little Grace. Warm and solid; finally a wee girl.

"Hey," Emily called from the doorway. "Let's go. Cookie time." Ajay came into the kitchen and Emily yelled again, up the stairs, this time for the boys' benefit. Lewis came in from his new temporary bedroom and Owen and Ethan bounded down the stairs. Twelve year old Owen loved being a big 'boy' to his young nephew. Weird; nephew. He knew Santa wasn't real but he was really loving pretending for the younger two. It was interesting to see how good of a pretender he was. Emily and Ethan poured milk while Ajay, Gillian and Grace picked out cookies and got a plate. The five of them went into the lounge to leave the snacks on the coffee table there, while Cal stood by with Lewis and Owen, who bounced a little on the spot with excitement. He was the most excited about sharing the traditions with delighted little faces.

And once that was done it was bedtime for everyone. Lewis gave hugs and kisses and disappeared into his room. Owen was sleeping in the top bunk, now that his big brother had vacated it, and he could fully take advantage. Cal leaned up to give him a kiss goodnight. Then he leaned down to the bottom bunk to hug and kiss five year old Ethan. Wee Grace was on a thin mattress on the floor. Emily was warning her not to come out of her room and not to disturb Grandma or Pop in their room, or come all the way downstairs to see her Mom and Dad, or to see if Santa had been. She had to be a really good girl, because Santa would know, and he would not bring presents. Maybe just for the boys. Grace nodded away, her dark hair splayed out over her pillow but there was always that little hint of defiance in them, that reminded Cal so much of her mother.

It actually took some time for the four adults to say goodnight to each of the three children but eventually Cal slipped from the room and headed down the hall to wait. Gillian was the second to emerge and she wore that silly smile of hers, the result of small children. Then Emily and Ajay. They said their goodnights at the top of the stairs. Cal and Gillian went into their room and got into bed.

"Is Santa bringing me a present this year?" Gillian asked once they were settled, her hand in his.

"I dunno. You'd have to ask Santa."

"Do you still have his number?"

A very hand threat for their own kids when they were younger. And neither of them had brought up that little deceit...

"In my phone," Cal mused. He felt Gillian's lips against his and he kissed her back briefly before she pulled away again.

"This is so nice."

In bed with his wife? Yes, that was nice, Cal agreed.

"I meant having everyone together. Here. It's really nice."

"Yeah," Cal acquiesced again. This was actually their first year having their grandkids over for Christmas. Not counting when Ethan came to visit when he was just a baby. But there were three sets of grandparents to get through and when Grace had come along a few years ago, it was the Resnick's turn to go out to Oklahoma with Ajay's parents. Then Zoe's turn, now back to the Lightman's turn.

Extended family made things so complicated.

Cal closed his eyes against the darkness and relaxed himself further. Sleep was going to come easily. The house was crowded and noisy and he was an old man. "One more kiss," he murmured and felt Gillian shifting almost instantly to reach for him. She pressed her lips against his firmly and lingered for a long moment.

"Hm," Cal hummed pleased.

"Good night Cal."

"Night darlin'."


	131. Chapter 131

There were times when Cal felt he was completely overstepping the mark. He could probably count them on one hand in his entire life but, still, they were there. And this was one of those moments. Interestingly enough, it wasn't because he was grilling someone for answers in the Cube with everyone watching and wincing away in the background because he was really pushing the limits on decency. No, this was because of Kent.

Kent had just come out of surgery. Cal didn't want the young man to wake up alone but the fight he'd had with his mother yesterday had left Kent so upset he had called Cal in tears and his mother had refused to come down today. Cal was there, because Kent had asked him to, but he was hanging out in the waiting room and he wasn't sure if the doctor was going to come by and talk to him about how it had gone or whether Cal was even going to be allowed in to see Kent today anyway. He wasn't family and he didn't get the chance to talk to Kent about it before he'd gone in to find out what the young man preferred.

Cal wanted to be there, but he didn't want to be stepping on toes. It was tense enough as it was. And Gillian was being no help. Her phone was on silent while she was with a patient and she had a full day booked. Cal had sent one tentative text to see if she would respond, but so far, nothing. It was going to be one of those things he was going to have to work out by himself.

Cal was actually still hoping Kent's mother was going to show up. Yeah she might be upset but Kent hadn't actually done anything to her. He hadn't gone out to... he hadn't killed someone or maimed her, or done something that was completely unforgivable. Cal often thought about the point where he would disown his boys, and even if they killed someone, he was pretty sure he'd be scheduling in weekly prison visits. His kids were his kids. And no matter what they did, or what happened, he couldn't envisage not talking to them ever again. Even if they really did go and do something he was totally against. What was he even totally against?

But Kent's mother did show up. And so she should. Cal saw her approach the nurses' station and ask about her son. Well he assumed she has asked about her son but he didn't approach her. Like he said, there were some things he got the impression he should just stay out of. So he watched a nurse take her to one of the recovery rooms and figured that was where Kent was. Or was going to be. Or something. The monitor in the waiting room said that Kent was out of surgery. And sure enough, as Cal kept an eye on the corridor he saw Kent being wheeled into the room. The young man was still unconscious, with a breathing tube still taped to his mouth and Cal had a sudden sickening realisation that this was exactly what Gillian had gone through once upon a time with him.

Cal left a message with a nurse to tell Kent that he had been there and would come back to see him. Then he returned a call from work, while he headed back towards the Lightman Group building. But he didn't stop in there. He parked a few blocks down, at Gillian's building. He headed up and sat in the waiting room for the next session to finish. The receptionist, he had forgotten her name, eyed him up from behind her desk; like that would intimidate him. Another man arrived and took a seat. He got a friendly smile.

Ten minutes of waiting and Gillian emerged to retrieve her next appointment. Whoever she had just been counselling got to slip out of a back door. Cal often wondered why Gillian hadn't simply slipped out the back door when that nut-bar with the gun had come in but he hadn't had the heart to ask her. She felt bad enough about that day as it is. She told Cal Kevin had known she was there, so maybe she was too afraid. Cal didn't blame her for that. Not at all.

"Cal," Gillian said surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I steal five minutes?"

"I have an appointment," she lowered her voice and upped the insistency.

"Really need to talk to you," Cal went on, just as firm. "Five minutes. Promise."

Gillian's expression went to concerned and he knew she was thinking that something had happened to their kids. It was unfair of him to play on that, but he certainly didn't correct her, not if it meant getting him a foot in the door. He took her by the elbow and guided her back to her office, quickly closing the door behind them.

"Are?" Gillian started but Cal cut her off with a hug. A fierce hug. The air 'ooofffed' out of her. She attempted to embrace him back, but by the time she managed to raise her arms Cal let her go again. He paced away a few feet, then came back and cupped her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. "What happened?" She blinked at him.

"Kent's out of surgery."

Gillian's face flickered to scared. "Is he ok?"

"I dunno. His mum showed up and I kind of just bailed. I'll go back to see him."

"His mum came?" Gillian repeated, her eyes went a little wider in surprised questioning. She brought her hands to his and curled her fingers into the gap between his palm and her cheek.

"Yeah she did," Cal affirmed.

Gillian tugged down on his hands, pulling him away. "That's great."

"Yeah and I saw him go by, with the breathin' tube and it suddenly felt like I was you, watchin' me. From the accident?"

Gillian nodded as she lowered their hands to her stomach. He was obviously shaken. "Do you want to come and sit?"

"You've got a patient," Cal pointed out.

"I can give you a minute," Gillian countered.

"And I've had five. I just wanted to see you."

"Ok," Gillian agreed and opened her mouth to try again.

"I'm fine. It's fine. I just... I dunno," Cal shook his head. "Scary. Seein' someone like that sometimes. You know? Course you know," Cal went on without waiting for an answer.

Gillian pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She gave him a full body press, then pulled back a little for a kiss. "Are you ok?" She asked, looking him in the eye. He nodded. Gillian kissed him again. "I'll call you for lunch."

"Yeah," Cal agreed. "I love you."

"I love you too," Gillian responded with a smile.

**PJ**

Cal did go back to see Kent, that afternoon, when he was actually allowed to go home. The implant surgery was an outpatient procedure. But Kent was pretty tired and uncomfortable so Cal didn't stay long. His mother was at least staying to look after him. Cal told him he would be back to see him in a few days. Kent nodded; he barely lifted his arms to sign. Cal bent to give him a quick kiss on the forehead and then walked away, feeling that strange mix of affection and confusion. Over stepping the mark?

It took a month of healing time for Kent's implant to actually be activated. Cal had to admit, he was pretty curious about how it worked. The criteria for receiving an implant was changing all the time. Lewis might be eligible one day. So Cal looked into it, did his research like he normally did. He thought an implant was a magical cure but in reality, it was more like an internal hearing aid. A cochlea implant wasn't going to restore every sound but it would improve hearing. What Cal didn't know was that Kent used to wear hearing aids when he was younger but he had given them up as they stopped being effective. Lewis would be a really good candidate if it weren't for the fact that his ears were damaged from his birth; he had oral language skills and practice with a hearing aid.

Cal went to see Kent in the afternoon. He had flowers from Gillian and cards from the boys and a little penguin soft toy from himself. He had text Kent ahead of time to see if it was still ok to visit. Cal pressed the door bell to Kent's little flat. He had had it wired to flash a light to indicate someone was at the door. And the same for when the phone rang. A few minutes later Kent came to the door. He gave Cal a grin and signed 'hello'.

Cal smiled back but his hands were too full for singing. He dumped the flowers on Kent and headed inside. Out of habit, Cal didn't speak to Kent until they were face to face. Kent put his flowers on the kitchen bench and faced Cal and Cal suddenly realised that maybe Kent could actually hear him. "So, should I stop swearin' unda my breath now?" Cal asked, still signing because he knew it would take time for Kent to understand words. His brain would have to re-learn sound.

Kent laughed and shoved his hand into Cal's, his way of saying 'shut up'. "I can hear your voice," he said, his speech still distorted from years of not being able to even hear himself. Then he burst into tears. Cal pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back a few times. 'Sorry, sorry',' Kent signed as he pulled away again.

"Don't be sorry," Cal told him, his hands on the young man's shoulders. As Kent turned his head to reach for tissues Cal could see the scars behind his ears. To be fair, he was looking, otherwise, they were relatively subtle.

Kent dabbed at his eyes and turned back to Cal. "I can hear things. Sounds and voices."

"Words?" He brought his hands up together, making a 'G' with his right and pressing it against his left index finger.

Kent shook his head. "Some words."

Cal gave him a smile. "It's nice to hear _you_ talkin'." He twirled his finger by his mouth.

Kent gave a pleased smile in return. "I can hear my own voice." He made a 'V' hand by his throat and moved it forward.

Cal's grin went wider. "That's fantastic."

"I'm going to have someone help me. With saying words," Kent went on, using 'talk'.

Cal nodded, pleased and excited for his friend. "Good."


	132. Chapter 132

When Cal got home that evening, Lewis was hovering at the end of the short hall that lead to the larger hall that lead down to the rest of the house. He had probably seen Cal pull up to the house through his bedroom window in the front of the house, which made Cal instantly think that his son had been waiting for him. "Hi Lew," Cal greeted.

"Hey Dad," Lewis answered. He followed his father to the kitchen. Cal tossed his keys to the breakfast bar. The house was quiet.

"Where is everyone?" Cal asked him.

"Mum's probably still at work," Lewis responded making two 'S' hands and tapping the right on top of his left. "And Owen's upstairs in his room."

"Right," Cal nodded, putting his case down to lean against the breakfast bar as well. "So what's up then?"

Lewis gave a flash of a surprise expression before he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and kind of twisted at the hip back and forth a bit. He raised his gaze to his father though, looked him in the eye and brought his hands back out of his pockets so he could sign while he talked. "I wanted to say thanks for being so cool about the... pregnancy thing," he lowered his voice and his eyes darted to the doors.

Cal took him by the arm and indicated they should go and sit. That way they would be further away from sudden prying ears that might accidentally on purpose overhear a still very sensitive subject halfway down the stairs. Owen didn't really need to know about any of this just yet. Once they were seated Cal told Lewis not to worry about it too much. "It worked out in the end," he added. The blood test has been negative. It was just a scare. A hell of scare, but still, just a false alarm. "Not to say that we wouldn't have worked it out had Hollie actually been pregnant," Cal also lowered his voice, like the word was sacred and he made the sign briefly before letting his hands drop again.

"Right," Lewis nodded his agreement. "But I just mean. You were pretty cool about it and I really didn't know what to do." He gave a shrug.

"That's what friends are for," Cal responded because it was the right thing to say, and because it was true. Like Gillian said, Lewis was an adult now. Just about. And so their relationship had to merge from parent/son to friends-ish. At least friends on some level. When Lewis went off to college in a few months, the only thing that was going to keep him in touch with them was a level of friendship. He had to _want_ to continue talking to his parents. Michigan was a long way away. And Cal remembered Emily being away in Boston. He had no idea what she'd been up to. He'd had no idea about her future husband until they were practically engaged. He didn't want it to be like that a second time around. Lewis was probably the easiest of his kids to get along with. It was Owen he really had to start nurturing along. But he was digressing.

"Look we've all been in that kind of situation," Cal went on, trying to ease the situation more but before he could add anything else Lewis looked over at him sharply.

"With Zoe?"

Cal had to do a mental double take. But of course, Lewis knew he was the result of IVF so definitely not a scare and Owen had resulted in an actual kid so that wasn't a false alarm either and so that didn't count as a 'scare' either. Lewis was naively assuming Cal was talking about the relationship before his mother: Zoe.

"But you had Emily right?" Lewis went on.

"Right yeah of course."

Lewis nodded and seemed to accept this, like his father was probably talking about another time they had thought Zoe was pregnant and it turned out she wasn't. He looked up at his father suddenly. "Are you still going to make me tell Mum?"

"Yes," Cal answered quickly.

Lewis gave a wince. "Even though nothing happened?" He made a 'zero' with his right hand.

"Yes," Cal repeated. "Because it's about good communication." He made 'C' hands and moved them alternately towards and away from his mouth. "She's your mutha."

Lewis's face became glum. "I suppose."

"There she is now," Cal indicated the kitchen doors. Lewis looked over sharply and a few moments later Gillian appeared. She had groceries in her hands. Cal got up and Lewis followed, to help her unload. They put the food away themselves, talking about their days and then before Gillian could disappear Cal asked if he could talk to her. She looked a little surprised but agreed. Cal turned to his son. "And that means you can get lost." He hiked a thumb at the door.

"Thanks a lot," Lewis grumped and scuffed out of the room.

Gillian gave Cal a slightly bemused expression. "So that means it's a serious conversation?"

"Yeah actually. I have somethin' I should tell you."

Gillian's face lost its amusement and she walked by him to go and sit on the couches where Cal had been with Lewis a moment ago. "Did something happen?" Gillian started and her eyes drifted over her husband's face, and to the door, where their teenage son had disappeared a moment ago.

"No nothin'... recent. When I was fifteen, I got a girl pregnant," Cal blurted.

Gillian's face went to shock. "Oh my god, are you going to tell me you have some long lost love child?" She asked quickly.

"No," Cal corrected. "Well actually," he mused. That was a possibility. How was he meant to know? Only mother's were sure of their children.

"Cal!"

"No it's not like that. She told me she was pregnant and then nine months late-a, hello, there was no baby."

Gillian gave him a glare and Cal suppressed a little sigh. She was right though, he needed to start the story from the beginning.

"I was fifteen and, you know," he gave a kind of wave of his hand. "There was a girl in my French class. And we..."

Gillian gave a nod.

"Right and so then, it was just that one time and a few weeks late-a she told me she was pregnant."

Gillian watched him for a moment. "You're completely shit at telling a story. And then what happened? What did you say?"

"I might have called her a bitch slag and suggested half a dozen otha boys could be the fartha and then pretty much bailed. She didn't talk to me afta that."

"I'm not surprised," Gillian responded dryly.

"Yeah," Cal gave an 'I'm not surprised' expression. "I dunno what happened afta that. Maybe she wasn't pregnant afta all or she could have got rid of it for all I know. Maybe she lost it," he added softly. "Point is, gave me a right fright and I handled it pretty shit and I just rememba-ed bout it cos of Lewis," Cal lowered his voice. "And we share stuff right?" His ton became urgent, his expression earnest and he realised he was looking for her approval. That he had done the right thing in telling her.

"Right," Gillian agreed. She reached for his hands and slipped her fingers around his, squeezing. "I'm glad you told me."

"Even though it's an awful story," Cal gave a slight wince. "I handled it really badly." Like he had told Lewis and Owen, there were some things from his past that he was not proud of.

"Well you were young."

"Dumb, and full of..." Cal went to finish.

"And either way, you didn't shirk out of your responsibilities entirely did you?"

"Didn't come to that luv."

"Luckily for you."

"Do you think less of me?"

"Hard to tell at this point," Gillian mused.

Cal wasn't actually sure she was kidding. If he were in her sexy black pumps he might be thinking twice about himself. It was a pretty shitty thing to do to the girl, pregnant or not. Most of his behaviour back then certainly left something to be desired, which was why he was sometimes so fearful his boys would turn out like him. That was why he tried so hard to make them into good men.

"I was kidding!" Gillian added with widened eyes. "It was a really long time ago and I have a hard time reconciling that boy with this man," she gestured to him as she spoke softly and sincerely

"Hm," Cal noted.

"I'm glad you told me though because I'm glad to know things about you."

Cal gave a nod.

"I can't imagine what it was like for you back then. I know you had a really hard time after your Mom died."

Oh she got it. She so got it. Cal felt relieved again.

Gillian leaned forward for a quick kiss. "What are you going to make me for dinner?'


	133. Chapter 133

"Dad will you play catch with me?" Owen asked, blue eyes wide and puppy dog. He had two mitts and a large white baseball, just about bigger than his hand, the same size his little league team used to play with.

"Sure," Cal agreed, getting up from the couch where he was attempting to read the paper. No rest for the wicked. Gillian had gone shopping and when she got home Cal was going to demand some return time alone. With the paper. Eight year old Owen thrust one of the mitts against his father's chest and ran for the glass sliding door. It was decorated with a variety of stick on figurines so the kids knew when the door was open or closed; robots, dinosaurs, cars, monsters and other various cut-outs.

It was sunny and warm outside, but windy, and on the horizon Cal could see dark grey clouds that would probably mean rain. He'd cut the lawn earlier in the morning, so the heavy smell of summer was in the air. The grass felt a little damp underfoot as Cal went to stand dutifully on one side of the yard, where Owen directed him. Cal slipped the mitt onto his left hand and pulled on it so it fit the right way. He flexed his thumb a few times, opening and closing the grip.

"All right I'm ready," Cal called to his son, who was really only a few meters away, on the other side of the grass. Owen tossed the ball awkwardly and it went wide to the left. Cal shot out his hand and grazed the edge of the curve, at least stopping it to thunk on the ground, rather than the fence. Cal stooped to pick it up and turned to see Owen hopping from one foot to the other. "Are you ready?"

"Yep," Owen nodded.

"Are you sure? Cos it looks like you're havin' a dance." Cal thought about adding something about Owen taking the sport seriously and then told himself to calm it the hell down. He didn't need to turn into a scary Soccer Mom.

Owen stood still and raised his mitt. "I'm ready." Cal tossed the ball back in a lazy arc. It went slightly to the right and Owen stuck out his hand but the ball did not meet the mitt. If he had moved just a foot to his left he would have made the easy catch. "You're meant to throw it to me," Owen protested as he stooped to the ground.

"You're meant to catch it," Cal retorted. "The ball isn't gonna magically appear in your hand durin' a game." Owen gave a little pout. "You move towards it," Cal instructed. Owen threw the ball back and it went high, way over Cal's head. Who taught the kid to throw a ball?

Cal picked it up and went back to his spot. He waited for Owen to raise his mitt again and purposefully threw the ball outside of his son's range. He encouraged Owen to move his feet and the eight year old took a sudden lunge to his right and made the catch. "That's great!" Cal enthused. Owen threw the ball back, which hit the ground two feet in front of Cal, bounced up into his shins, then rolled around his feet. If this baseball team Owen wanted to play for had trials, Cal wasn't sure the kid would get in.

Once Owen seemed to get the hang of actually going for the ball, Cal moved on to throwing properly. He went over to show Owen how to chuck it, and at what point to let go, not somewhere at the clouds, but when his hand was pointing towards his father, where he actually wanted the ball to go. Then Cal moved back to his spot and held up his mitt, right in front of his stomach, which was probably just asking for trouble, and told Owen to aim right there. Owen practically pitched a strike on his first go. The next few were wide and weird again but he soon settled into an easy rhythm. They tossed the ball back and forth easily enough. And then Lewis came out.

"Want to have a go?" Cal asked the thirteen year old. Lewis shook his head and took a seat on the bench in the sun. Cal checked his watch. He'd forgotten about Gillian. "Is Mum home?" Cal asked Lewis, moving his hand from near his mouth to near his ear. Lewis shook his head.

"Dad did you play catch with your Dad cos you're real good," Owen spoke up.

"No," Cal admitted. "My Dad didn't play with me or Thomas very much." He used his right hand to make a "Y" hand shape and twist it back and forth at the wrist, then moved both hands away from each other for 'much'.

"How come?"

"I'm not sure," Cal admitted with a shake of his head. He moved a few feet closer to Lewis so he could hear better. It was far too awkward to sign with a catching mitt on his hand. "I don't think my Dad knew how to be a very good Dad. There were lots of things he didn't teach us or talk to us about."

"You talk to us about everything," Owen noted with what looked like a slight eye roll. Cal threw a sharp quick ball that Owen was unprepared for and had to scramble to gain control of.

"You must be a better Dad than your Dad," Lewis noted.

Cal turned his head to the teenager, impressed, surprised, pleased. Owen chose that moment to throw the ball back and it smacked into Cal's leg. "Were you ready?" Owen asked him. "Cos you didn't look like you were ready!"

"I wasn't ready," Cal grumped. That actually really hurt. He bent to pick up the ball. "Why do you say that Lewis?"

Lewis gave a shrug. "Cos I think you're a good Dad."

Heart swelling and lungs struggling and warm tingly sensations.

"You always have time for us and you talk to us about things. You don't tell us we're too little for stuff," Lewis added, moving his hands in the sunlight that brought out the natural golden streaks of his hair.

"Yeah and you play with us!" Owen added, bouncing again on the grass, waving a very enthusiastic "Y" hand around.

Cal didn't know what to say. Words were actually a bit of a struggle. It was one thing to hear it from his wife, or from his adult daughter, and entirely another to hear it from the mouth of his thirteen year old son, and echoed by his eight year old.

Owen leapt and danced his way over to take the ball from his father's hand. "You're fun," he added and then attempted the sign with the ball in his hand. He dropped it, abandoned the sign, and bent to pick the ball up.

"Thank you," Cal had to clear his throat. "I wanted to be a betta Dad than my Dad. And I hope you're betta Dad's than I am. That way it always gets betta right?"

Lewis nodded but Owen took a second to think about it before agreeing.

"How come you never talk about Nana?" Lewis asked next.

Oh geeze now there was a conversation Cal had already put off once. About four years ago. But Owen was still just a wee man back then. And now? Well... Cal took a seat on the bench next to Lewis and pulled the mitt of his left hand. It was sweaty and hot and smelt like warm leather; yuck. "Well," Cal started. Lewis turned his head to listen. Owen plonked himself on the grass right at his feet, fidgeting with the ball. "I don't like to talk about my Mum much because... When I was little she was very unwell a lot of the time and so I have a lot of memories of her like that, which aren't very good ones and the good memories are ones I don't always think of first."

That was probably a bit complicated.

"You know last year Lewis you had that teacha you didn't like?" Cal turned towards him as he signed to Lewis knew he was talking to him.

Lewis nodded.

"And wheneva you think about her you always think of the times she was mean to your or was yellin' at the otha kids?"

Lewis nodded again while Owen looked up at them intently, listening.

"But sometimes she was kind of cool and she did some fun things with you guys like when you made those boomerangs?"

Lewis nodded again.

"I wish I got to make a boomerang," Owen noted wistfully.

"It's a bit like that with my Mum. I rememba lots of times that make me feel bad but cos she's my Mum, I don't want to."

"Was your Mum mean?" Owen asked.

"She was not very well a lot of the time," Cal repeated.

"Did she have a bug?" Owen again.

"No," Cal answered slowly. He often liked to prepare for these kinds of conversations with his kids, but to be honest, most of the time, it was actually better to wing it. He was forced to answer more honestly that way and the boys often directed the conversation anyway. "She had a different kind of sickness. It was a sickness in her head. It made her feel very badly, all the time, very sad and sometimes she'd have lots of energy and couldn't keep still. A bit like you Trouble," Cal nudged the boy's knee with his foot. Owen gave a kind of laugh and shifted backwards out of reach. "But most of the time she was very sad and tired. It's very hard to explain," Cal went on. "And when you're olda you'll undastand. But I don't know how to make you undastand now."

"Was she mean to you though?" Lewis asked.

"She could be... Sometimes she would get really upset and frustrated. And she would yell. But she didn't know how else to be. She felt very shitty inside." Cal realised he had just sworn. "Don't repeat that," he warned while Owen giggled and Lewis smiled. "She felt really awful and there was no way to make her betta." He paused. "It would be like walkin' around all day with a nail in your hand and not bein' able to take it out. It'd make you a bit mad wouldn't it?"

"That'd hurt," Owen pointed out. "Like 'the lion and the mouse'?"

"Yes like that," Cal agreed. Good analogy. That would be one they would understand. The lion roared and made a lot of noise all day long. All the other animals were afraid of it. Until a brace mouse asked the lion what was wrong and the lion showed the mouse that it had a thorn stuck in its paw that it couldn't get out.

"But didn't your Dad help her feel better?" Lewis pushed.

"No," Cal answered honestly. "He didn't know how to. My Dad wasn't very good at talkin' or..." Cal paused. Now how was he going to word this one? "You know how sometimes you get so mad and so frustrated with somethin' that's happened you need to go sit in the time out or go to your room for a minute, to just walk away and calm down a bit and get it togetha, maybe figa out what you want to say, and then come back?"

Both the boys nodded because they were allowed that respite from the situation as well as their parents. Usually only when the situation got really bad, but there was that window of being able to take five minutes, then coming back to face the music.

"My Dad felt like that a lot so he would leave. But he didn't come back to talk things through. He just left my Mum to try and figa out things on her own." Cal stopped again. The boys were silent, listening and probably wondering. And Cal thought about telling them the rest of it, about his mother's death. They had asked him years ago and that was probably the only thing he had fobbed them off about and been grateful when they woke up the next morning and hadn't remembered that they had asked. Four was too young to understand death, let alone what suicide was. But when was the right age really? Even when Cal had told Emily at sixteen he felt like she was too young to know. He wanted to protect her from that. Just like he wanted to protect his boys.

But then there was also chickening out.

"My Mum felt very lonely," Cal spoke again. "And she was very sad inside. You know sometimes we have days where we feel a bit 'down'?" The boys nodded. "My Mum felt like that every day. But ten times worse. And you know how if someone's feelin' sad we give them lots of hugs and be nice to them, to make sure they know that we love them?" More nods. "No one did that for my Mum."

"How come you didn't do it?" Owen asked.

"Because I didn't know that's how she felt. Not until I was olda. I was just a little boy Wen. Younga than you. And no one taught me how. I didn't know that was how she felt inside."

Wholly crap he felt like crying.

"My Mum felt so badly she decided she couldn't keep feelin' like that," Cal went on. "And she didn't want to be alive anymore. So one day she took a lot of medicine and went to sleep and she didn't wake up again."

Cal suddenly realised that Gillian should be here for this conversation. He should have waited. Oh crap. Too late now. He hadn't meant to.

"That's how my Mum died," Cal added gently.

It seemed even the crickets had fallen silent.

And that ugly grey cloud was getting closer, swallowing up the bright blue sky.

Cal looked from Owen, who was giving him wide baleful blue eyes, to Lewis, who was staring at a spot on the grass, pensive. They were outside but the air felt heavy and claustrophobic; a storm was coming. Cal felt the need to get his phone and dial his wife and have her here with him.

"She died on purpose," Owen broke the quiet.

Cal nodded. "Yes," he answered softly. Lewis looked over at him and Cal wasn't sure what he was seeing but it was like sympathy and compassion but also grief and guilt. Cal put his arm around his son's skinny shoulders. Owen got up from the grass and came to stand between his father's legs to hug him. Cal put his other arm around the boy's petite back and clung on tightly, letting his children make him feel whole again.

"That's a sad story," Owen noted. Lewis gave his brother a gentle nudge and Owen pulled back to repeat the sentence, coupled with signs this time.

"Yeah Dad," Lewis agreed. "That's a sad story. Sorry I asked."

"No," Cal started to object.

"We don't have to talk about your Mum anymore," Owen added.

"No I'm glad you asked. You should ask. She's your Nana and she's family and we don't have secrets right? I'd like to talk about her some," Cal countered. "So you can get to know her a little bit. You can ask questions. I don't mind. But sometimes it makes me feel a bit sad to think about. I could tell you some good stories."

Owen nodded with a pout. "We'll give you lots of hugs to make you feel better."

"We love you Dad."

"Thanks boys. You're lovely wee men," Cal hugged them again, pulling them in tight, feeling the weight of them ground him. It was a relief to have it out there, but now he would worry about what he'd told them, the way the words had come out, and how they would be thinking about it. Unfortunately, the more suicide was talked about, the more it seemed to spread. "I love you too," he added.

And now, where was Gillian? Because she would want to add to this conversation. There needed to be more. But Cal didn't know how to do that. He loosened up his grip a little on Owen and suggested they go back inside now. "Let's call Mum and ask her to come home. I think I need more cuddles."


	134. Chapter 134

Cal was on duty. And Owen had baseball practice. So Cal took Lewis, who wasn't quite old enough to stay home by himself, though he probably could be trusted, and headed down to the park about fifteen minutes early to catch the end of the session. They were playing a mock game and Owen was dancing around on his base not paying too much attention. The little blighter could probably afford to muck around if he was their star player. But still. "Oi Owen," Cal called. Owen smiled and waved. "Pay attention!" Cal added gesturing to the game. Owen spun around three hundred and sixty degrees on his toe. That wasn't really paying attention.

Cal sat with Lewis in the stands. Cal asked about Lewis's day. Lewis was a teenager now and things had changed with him. Obviously, he was physically changing, but Cal noticed he was quieter, slightly more withdrawn and it took more to bring him out of it again. It worried Cal, because he wasn't used to it, not from his doting Lewis. But also, the behaviour, it reminded him of his mother when she was in the middle of a depressive episode. Or was about to fall. When Cal talked to Gillian about it she admitted she had thought about it, that if either of their two boys was more likely it would seem to be Lewis. What they figured was to keep an eye on him, to give him the extra attention he so clearly needed. Lewis was self-sufficient in so many ways, but he was also like his father, he needed the quality contact, not just a lot of it. Not like Owen.

When practice was over Cal helped Owen carry his gear back to the car. They put it in the trunk and piled in. Cal pulled away from the curb, checking over his shoulder before merging from the parking lot to the street. He suddenly caught a whiff of something familiar. Something not entirely unpleasant, but with negative connotations, and it took him a second to place it. It was a smell he had not been around for a long time. He leaned forward and turned the music off. "All right who smells like smokes?"

Deathly silence followed and Cal didn't see it, but Lewis and Owen exchanged a look behind his back. It was a rhetorical question really. Cal had been hanging out with Lewis for most of the afternoon, he wasn't likely to only suddenly notice the smell of cigarettes now. So he was really asking Owen, but he wondered if Owen would own up, or try to deny it. Cal readjusted the rear-view mirror to catch a guilty expression on his youngest's face, just a glimpse, which was really all Cal ever needed, before he had to focus on the road again.

"Anyone back there?" He prompted. He wondered if Lewis would rat out his brother. He wondered if Owen would speak up. He wondered if either of them were going to even say anything at all. Finally, Cal pulled the car over and killed the engine and twisted around in his seat. What he saw, before hands fell quickly to laps, was Owen and Lewis furiously signing to each other. Oh how handy it was that they knew ASL.

"Right, listen up," Cal started in his stern father tone of voice. "Smokin' cigarettes is stupid and dangerous and I forbid it. Both of you," he pointed to each of them to be sure. "Are forbidden to try cigarettes or touch cigarettes and if your friends are lightin' up in front of you cos they think they're cool, then you're to walk away immediately. Do you hear me?" He glared at Owen first, who shrunk under his gaze but nodded feebly, then Lewis, who gave a nod, though the expression on his face was surly. Oh now that was interesting. Lewis too? At one point? Still. His friends? Cal would grill them on that when he got home. He turned back in his seat, started the car and headed home again.

Once they were back at the house, Cal practically frog marched both of them inside and made them stand in front of the breakfast bar. Cal was only mildly aware he was over doing it, but what better way to teach his kids a lesson he really meant by scaring the shit out of them? At least it was going to be memorable. Much better than the handholding Gillian tended to encourage. Sometimes the best way to get through to someone was with shock tactics. There was respecting their kids to make their own decisions and then there was sucking on toxic fumes.

"Owen," Cal started. The boy startled a little and straightened up as if he were on inspection in a military parade. "Did you smoke a cigarette today?" Owen shook his head while looking his father in the eye. His cheeks had gone a little red but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Gillian tended to blush when she was caught off guard about something too. "Then why do you smell like cigarette smoke?"

"My friend," Owen said.

Cal thought about asking which one, so he could go down there, confiscate the pack and smack the kid in the back of the head with them. They were barely nine for crying out loud. How did they even get their hands on them? "And did you try it?"

Owen shook his head vigorously.

"Good," Cal responded sharply. Lewis looked over at his brother. "And next time when your friend smokes? What are you gonna do?" Cal pressed on.

Silence.

"What are you gonna do?" Cal repeated a little louder, his hands more insistent as he signed.

"Walk away," Owen mumbled. Cal made him say it again, louder, so that everyone heard him nice and clear.

"Do you know why I say this to you?" Cal asked next.

"Cos cigarettes are bad," Owen answered.

"Yeah they're bad. They're toxic Owen. They'll kill you. Even if someone else smokes them and you breathe in the smoke, it can kill you." Owen looked up at him alarmed. Cal met his son's blue eyes evenly. He could feel Lewis's on him too. "I mean it. Every cigarette is full of nasty toxic stuff and they can make you really ill."

"You used to smoke," Lewis spoke up.  
>"Yeah I did," Cal quickly agreed. '<em>Thanks Lewis for underminin' me<em>.' "When I was younga I smoked. When I was Lewis's age," Cal looked to Owen again to make sure he was paying attention to this. "And you know what happened?" He micro paused for any quick answers the boys felt like throwing out. Which they didn't. "I got sick. I got throat cance-a."

Lewis's eyes went wider and Cal thought smugly that even though the boy had somehow found out his Dad used to smoke, he hadn't heard about the cancer. Yet. "You're going to die!" Owen asked shocked, his mouth dropping open.

"I was lucky," Cal went on. "I was very lucky and they cut it out and I got betta."

"When?" Lewis.

"Before Owen was born. You were maybe two or three."

Little fuzzy on the timeline there. But he had the scars to prove it and he showed the boys the tiny white lines on the edge of his jaw bone under his chin.

"My job is to look afta you right?" Cal went back to his lecture. Owen nodded. Lewis didn't respond. Teenagers. Insert eye roll here. "To keep you safe. I wouldn't let you run through a nuclear bomb blast naked and I wouldn't let you cross the road with your eyes closed, and I won't let you smoke cigarettes or even be around them if you can help it."

"How come there are even cigarettes?" Lewis asked.

And it was a good freaking question, because they were now under regulation again, available on prescription from medical professionals for those who were so seriously addicted that to quit would cause serious distress. Which posed another interesting question: how in the hell had Owen's friend got a hold of one?

"That's a very long story Lew," Cal almost sighed. Lewis gave a little gesture that said 'go on'. "Because a very, very long time ago, Europeans discova-ed the tobacco plant and learnt how to dry the leaves and smoke them and they found it made them nice and relaxed and otha fun stuff but what they didn't realise was that what they put the leaves with to make the easi-a to smoke was toxic. And then many years afta that when people were addicted and the tobacco companies had made so much money they could swim in it like Scrooge McDuck, scientists started to find out that they were nasty and actually could kill people. But by then it was too late because people were addicted and the tobacco companies had _a lot_ of money so they could pay politicians money to keep cigarettes legal."

"How come you smoked Dad?" Owen piped up, clearly bored with that story.

"Cos my Dad smoked and my Mum smoked and my brutha was pinchin' their cigarettes when I was small, and all my friends were doin' it and I kind of liked it for a while."

"When did you stop?" Lewis again.

"When I found out I was gonna be a Dad the first time. I didn't want my daughta to be around that. Just like I don't want you two to be around it eitha." Cal paused and it seemed they didn't have more questions. At least just now. "I say this to you because I love you," he tried. "All right?"

Owen nodded and Lewis too.

"All right," Cal finished. "Now. Owen. Go and have a showa and put your uniform into the wash. Cos you stink." Owen hung his head a little and wandered off. Cal turned to Lewis. "And what are you gonna do until tea time?" He softened his tone.

Lewis gave a shrug. "Go to my room."

"All right," Cal acknowledged and watched Lewis walk away. He fought the urge to bear hug him from behind and ask him what was bothering him so much, if something was bothering him; where had his little munchkin gone? He could only be there for the kid, not force him to talk. But god it was hard to not shake it out of him. It wasn't so bad though if he stood there through that lecture and actually listened though...

Cal took his phone out of his pocket and text his wife: **SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR SONS BOUT SMOKIN & CANCER**

Gillian responded pretty quickly to that message: **THAT WARRANTS SERIOUS EXPLANATION WHEN I GET HOME**


	135. Chapter 135

The mood was sombre. It should have been happy and excited, exuberant and high-spirited. But it wasn't and they weren't. Because this time, it really was goodbye. It was goodbye until Lewis came home at Christmas, and December was just so far away. For all of them. Gillian had woken up that morning a little teary; her baby boy was leaving home. Cal felt the sadness of his wife on top of a feeling of helplessness. Owen was bummed his friend was leaving. And Lewis was torn between a new adventure and saying farewell to his family; the only life he had known so far, the unknown was scary.

Today, Lewis was going away to college.

The four of them stood around aimlessly, not really talking, occasionally joking or sharing some titbit of useless information. Lewis had a nervous energy; the grip on his plane ticket was firm. Gillian was trying not to cry and clinging on to Cal's hand tightly. And Owen hung his head where he stood, scuffing his toe over the pattern of the carpet. Cal felt apart, like he was watching from a distance, like he could see himself from above. The airport was noisy around them but it was like they were in their own little bubble, waiting. Cal remembered feeling this way another time in his life but he couldn't pinpoint it; he just knew it had also been significant. The boarding call for Lewis's flight came on overhead and Cal listened to it with a sinking heart. It was time.

Cal and Gillian glanced at each other. "Ok," Gillian stepped forward and Cal watched her compose herself, plaster a smile and reach out her arms to hug her boy. They squeezed for a really long time and then Gillian gave Lewis's cheek a kiss and she squeezed his arm as she pulled away again. The diamond ring on her finger caught the light as she raised her hand to fidget with the band; a new habit, Cal noted.

Then it was Cal's turn and he squeezed his son for a long time too, a part of him not wanting to let go, another trying to make sure he remembered how his son felt. Lewis was eighteen, a man, and it amazed Cal that this person, who had once fit in the crook of his elbow, was now grown, taller than his father even, and going to college. If there were things Cal wanted to change they were only minor, because really, everything had lead to this moment, to this wonderful young man, and if he changed just one thing, would that make Lewis different?

"Love you buddy," Cal told him, fighting back a wave of sadness that made his throat feel funny.

"Love you too Dad," Lewis's large hands pressed at Cal's shoulders.

Cal let him go and everything washed over him for a second. He felt the prick of tears and then the energy within him shifted and he grinned. This wasn't something to be sad about and he could see Lewis was feeling wobbly, and Gillian was certainly already upset, but Cal didn't need to compound the mood with his own. As always, he had a choice, let the sadness take him over, or fight it back and be happy. Happiness was a choice, always a choice. And Cal chose, in this moment, to be happy. His brilliant boy was now a young man. And it certainly wasn't goodbye forever.

"Have fun," Cal added. "But not too much eh?" He gave a wink, used a small 'much', and Lewis laughed, surprised, but grinned in return, muttering something in half-agreement. Cal went to his wife's side and she put her arm around the back of his waist, gripping tightly. He didn't look, but he was pretty sure she was crying again.

Owen gave his brother a reluctant expression and shuffled over for his hug too. It was not an aversion to a public display of affection, but to saying goodbye at all. Owen idolised Lewis and he was only just thirteen; there was still plenty of room for influence. But Lewis wouldn't be around so much anymore. "Be good little brother," Lewis told him as they embraced briefly. "Don't give them too much grief." He used 'trouble'. "They're pretty much good guys."

Cal expected an eye-roll in response to that but, instead, Owen nodded. "Promise you'll text me?" He used both thumbs in front of his body like he was working an xbox controller.

"Yeah of course," Lewis said as if it were obvious. "And here. I have something for you." He gestured to Owen and then dug into his pocket and pulled out a small metallic object.

Owen's face went to shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. You can look after him for me right?" He used 'care'.

"Yeah," Owen agreed softly, taking the small robot from his brother's outstretched palm. The little toy's body was about the size of a match box. Its arms and legs were chain with weighted hands and legs, so that they always dangled. Its head was round, with a conical hat, like the Tin Man's and his face was designed the same way. Except it moved differently. The eyebrows went up and down, and the pupils around and around in a circle. There was a little motor inside that was powered by a spent battery from Lewis's hearing aids. It was the first thing he had built as an electrical engineer, a side project for fun, when, Cal suspected, he was supposed to be doing a class project or something. Owen had coveted it from a distance for the last three years.

"Maybe you can name him?" Lewis suggested tapping his fingers over the top of the others.

"I'll think," Owen agreed with a nod, pointing absently to his head.

"Great. And I'll send you batteries as soon as I can." He lowered his voice but kept on signing. "But don't tell Mum and Dad."

Because, originally, the little robot had run off a _fully charged_ hearing aid battery, until Gillian found out after she had to stage an investigation to find out why Lewis had run through his battery allocation a lot faster than usual.

Owen nodded and Lewis gathered up his carry-on luggage. "I suppose I should get going," he noted, pointing over his shoulder.

Gillian's grip on Cal tightened and Cal felt a surge, not of sorrow this time, but joy. That was good. He didn't want to be sad about this. Lewis was going out in the world. Cal hoped the world was good to him and more importantly, he really hoped Lewis found his place amongst it. "Gives a text when you land," Cal instructed.

"Of course," Lewis responded. "Thanks guys. I love you," he raised his hand in the 'ILY' gesture.

"Love you too honey," Gillian added, mimicking the sign.

"Love you," Cal echoed, doing the same.

"Bye Lewis," Owen called as his brother began to walk away. "We'll miss you!" He raised the little robotic toy, pushing the small button at its back that made its eyebrows go up and down and its eyes around and around for five seconds.

They watched through glass and barriers until Lewis went through the last check, handed over his boarding pass and disappeared into the long arm leading to the plane. They stood and waited while everyone else boarded the plane, and when Owen was already bored and folding his new little toy's arms and legs around its body and into various other unnatural poses, Cal and Gillian waited for the plane to take off down the runway and into the sky. When it was finally out of their sight they turned to each other. "All right?" Cal asked his wife, brushing the hair back gently from her face.

Gillian nodded. "So hard to believe he's gone." But she wasn't crying anymore.

"Yeah," Cal agreed, but with that smile again. He was picturing Lewis getting his bag at the other end, heading out to get a taxi; Cal had given him some cash and a few instructions. Nothing like the 'don't talk to strangers speech'. Then arriving at his dorm and settling in, unpacking, meeting people, finding his classes, making his way. "He'll be all right," Cal added, taking his wife's hand and turning them to walk slowly away.

"It's not him I'm worried about," Gillian retorted mournfully. "It's me."

Cal gave a slight laugh and pulled her against his hip, wrapping his arm around the back of her shoulder. He turned his head back to see where Owen was. "Wen let's go!" He called. "Just you, me and Mum now. Think of all the fun we're gonna have now we don't have Lewis around to pick on."

Owen spun on his toes on the carpet and fell in behind him. "Oh great," he muttered. Cal heard him anyway and smiled. And then it would be Owen's turn.


	136. Chapter 136

AN: M rated chapter.

**PJ**

When Cal came in, he had an innocuous, shiny, black, plastic, bag in his hand. And instead of announcing his arrival home, like he would normally do, he kind of snuck in and put his keys on the breakfast bar quietly. The boys were at the dining room table doing their homework. Owen had his back to the room so he didn't see his father and Lewis, who was sitting at the head, hadn't heard him. "Did you go shopping?" Gillian asked him softly, audible only to him.  
>Cal wiggled his eyebrows at her in answer and gave a grin. He headed upstairs straight away and Gillian felt a pang of nerves. What if he'd got something... really... ok she couldn't think of a specific example because she'd be the first to put her hand up and say she didn't know much about sex toys beyond vibrators. And maybe a part of her was also a little worried that after twenty years of sleeping with the same guy, that guy had finally had enough of her. It could happen. Lesser relationships had failed over such things.<p>

Their sex life had slowed down in the last few years, not just because of a sense of boredom (god she hoped Cal wasn't really bored with her) but because of age. Yeah admittedly, age was starting to become a factor. Next year Gillian would turn sixty. It wasn't that she didn't like the idea of sex with her husband; it was more that the starting point was so much further away from the finish line. And she knew it was the same for Cal too. He was nearing his mid-sixties. He was slowing down. She knew that without ever having to discuss it. Kissing often went not further than kissing. At least there was still kissing.

Gillian was already in bed waiting for Cal when he finally came back from checking to see if the boys had put their light out like they had been instructed. "No they still had the light on," Cal told her.

"I thought I heard yelling," Gillian responded, hearing the lock of their bedroom door turn. Cal had put the lock in. It was completely warranted.

"I didn't yell," Cal countered as he turned towards the bed again. "Just raised my voice a little. It's late."

"It's nine," Gillian pointed out.

"And Owen's ten. He needs to sleep. So does Lewis though he denies it," Cal got into bed but sat, with the blanket over his waist. Gillian lay against her pillow and looked up at him. He was watching her. "So." He started and stopped, probably waiting for her to say something. "Are you? Do you want to?"

"Why don't you show me what you got?" Gillian suggested, still feeling pensive, but wanting to be a little more adventurous, for the sake of her marriage, for the sake of Cal, for her own sake. Mostly because it was Cal.

"Look we don't have to," Cal offered her a way out. And for a second she considered taking it. There was no pressure. She knew if she said 'no' right now, he would back off and never mention it again and it would not be a big deal; he would not hold it against her. Which is why she said 'yes'. She trusted him.

"Show me what you got," Gillian encouraged.

Cal turned to his bedside stand and opened the drawer.

"You stashed your shopping next to your bed?" Gillian asked him incredulously.

"Yeah," Cal turned back to her, bag in hand, all folded up around whatever was inside, which was small. His face was neutral and devoid of understanding her point.

"I'm not sure whether to tease you for keeping that handy or tell you off for leaving it lying around where one of our kids could potentially find it."

Cal shifted so he was facing towards her, legs now crossed where he sat. His face still said 'so what?' "Where'd you want me to keep it?"

"In the bathroom, in your underwear drawer... under the bed?"

Cal gave a 'hm' which in this instance was code for 'oh I didn't think of that and you have a fair point'. "Well when we're done I'll make sure to hide the items properly." He stopped just short of a smirk and Gillian was glad, because she might have told him to shove it like she often wanted to do when he gave her that smug expression. He let the bag unroll and opened it to peer in.

'_I don't think there's anything in that black bag for me_'suddenly went through Gillian's mind. She wondered if this was one of Cal's 'things', something on his list that he always wanted to do but had never had the heart to bring up until now. They had talked about her sexual history before, about some of her experiences; she wasn't a stranger to props, but like she'd said, vibrators were about the extent of it. And now she wondered, what was Cal thinking? What did this mean to him? She reached out suddenly to put her hand over his, pushing down on the bag so it crumpled up in a heap beneath the both of them. Cal gave her a surprised expression, holding it to indicate she could explain.

"What are you thinking about?" Gillian asked him softly.

"I'm thinkin' about what I got for you."

"For me?"

"Yes for you."

Gillian was silent for a moment, thinking, piecing together... "You bought things for me?" Her eyes drifted to the bag and up to her husband's face and he nodded. As in, not things for him.

"You know how I like to play," he told her gently.

Gillian gave a slight smile despite herself. Yes she did know.

"I got a few things I thought you'd maybe like, that maybe I could also have fun with if you'd like." He suddenly seemed unsure and Gillian relaxed a little. She liked it when he showed he was just as vulnerable as she was. It made them equals. It was him stepping back with his hand outstretched to haul her up there with him, when it seemed she had fallen a pace behind. Cal pulled his hand away from hers slowly and when she didn't object again he opened the bag. He fished around and had to look to check and finally produced a small box. He held it up the right way so Gillian could read it.

The box was black and pink and it was... "Lubricant?" Gillian asked, feeling a little offended, maybe, even, a little disappointed.

"What?" Cal asked surprised. "No." He turned the box to read it himself. "It's to enhance your pleasure. It's not lubricant. What would you need lubricant for?" And he gave her such a dirty look Gillian didn't know whether to melt into a puddle or burst out laughing. She barely managed to do neither.

Ok so it was a product for women to enhance the physical feeling of pleasure. _That_, she had heard of before. And if it was for her, well she could figure out what Cal wanted her to do.

"But it's no fun playing alone," Gillian told him softly.

Cal shifted so he was lying down, close to her, the rest of the bag discarded between them, the box still in his hand. "I want to do it." His blue eyes were so sincere. Gillian suddenly felt like she was naked and like this was the first time they had even slept together. He had such a way of making her feel as if she were the only person in the world, but that also made her nervous. It shouldn't, but it did, because she wanted to live up to everything he expected from her. Sometimes it seemed he knew her better than she knew herself.

"Is there one for you?"

"No," Cal shook his head gently and she was starting to get it. He had bought her presents. Just for her.

"But what about you?"

Cal gave her a slight smile, and she knew he had already reached a conclusion and was waiting for her to catch up. The little smile meant she was on track. And it was strangely a little turn on; Gillian felt a tingle. "But," she tried prompting him again.

"It's for you," Cal told her softly. "I don't need to get my rocks off anymore Gill. I'm... gettin' old." He admitted it reluctantly. "But I still get my jollies by seein' you gettin' off." He gave her a grin and her stomach quivered. That was actually strangely romantic.

"You're not old," Gillian reached out her hand to smooth it against his cheek. Which was a lie. He _was_ getting older. His beard was completely white. The last of the colour in his hair was fading away. The wrinkles were deeper set. His stamina started to dwindle at the edges. And she didn't mean when they were in bed.

"So, can we?" He gave the little black box a jiggle and the tube inside rattled and Gillian's stomach quivered again. She nodded, breaking into a smile. Even if the gel was a complete bust, she had the feeling Cal was going to worship her until she begged him to stop; and that was certainly something to look forward to.

Cal tore the top of the box off and slid the tube into his palm. Of course, whenever they actually sat down to have sex like this it was a bit awkward. It was different from being horny and initiating; spontaneity was always their best form. That was also why this felt a bit like their first time. There had been a barrier that Gillian had forced herself past. They hadn't been all over each other, half undressed and she just kept going. She had had to... kick it off and she feared she wouldn't be as into it as she thought she might be. Same for now. Not because there was a mysterious black plastic bag or a bottle of gel... Maybe it _was_ that. Maybe it was because she was pushing herself to do something she hadn't done in so long. Maybe it was because it was something she and Cal hadn't done before.

"You're nervous," Cal observed and sometimes she hated him for being able to read her too well. There was nowhere to hide.

"I am not," Gillian retorted and shifted up on her elbows, shoving him back. Surprised, he fell under the unexpected assault on his shoulder, the undermining of his balance. "Give it," she reached for the tube.

"I want to do it," Cal countered, attempting to move his hand out of her reach.

Gillian grabbed his wrist and his eyes went a little wider for a second; he did like it when she fought back. "I'll do it," Gillian told him and pulled the tube from his hand. He let it go and she moved to straddle over his stomach, not resting her entire weight on him, but enough to keep him still. His hands went to her calves, sliding into the back of her knees and her skin responded to him, just like it always did. Who was she kidding? Seriously? Even if the gel _was_ a complete bust, she was still going to respond to him in every little way because she loved him too much; she just needed to get her head in the game and shut up those little nagging voices of doubt that tried to undermine her when her defences were down.

Gillian opened the tube and a sweet floral smell entered the room. Cal watched her intently as she pushed out a generous amount and tossed the tube back to him. With one hand she pulled back her underwear and with the index finger of her right hand, applied the gel, knowing exactly where it was meant to go without having to read the box. Where else was a female sex product going to go? Cal gave a little squirm beneath her. "Oh god that is seriously so sexy, you have no idea."

Gillian _did_ know. What it did to him so she let her eyelids flutter closed just to tease him a little bit more. Cal's hands shifted rapidly to grip the front of her knees. "And the undawear," he muttered; black lacy, she _was_ expecting him after all. "Sexy Gillian."

"The door's locked right?" Gillian asked, her eyes still closed.

"Yes."

Gillian opened her eyes again and withdrew her hands and Cal actually looked a little disappointed. She gave him a slight smile as she leaned forward and his eyes focussed on her face intently until he couldn't anymore without going completely cross-eyed. She pressed her lips against his. He opened his mouth immediately, inviting her into the warmth. His hands shifted from her knees to the back of her thighs and smoothed up. He broke away suddenly, "Oh god and it's a thong."

Gillian gave him a grin and descended on his mouth again. Why did she doubt herself? She could play this game just as well as he could. If he was going to buy her presents that was just fine, but that didn't mean she had to be the only one getting her jollies out of them. She was determined to take him with her tonight. Gillian kissed him deeply and broke away again, trailing smaller kisses to the side of his mouth, down to his jaw. "Cold though," she murmured against his skin.

"I'll warm you up," Cal smoothed his hands down her legs again and back up, then again rapidly. It sent a spasm to Gillian's stomach and she rocked forward on her knees a little. She pressed another kiss against his mouth and she just knew the expression he was giving her, if she dared to look, was 'oh yeah, did that do it for you?' Gillian kissed him a little more hungrily and he broke away to ask her if anything was happening yet. Gillian wondered what the hell he was on about because, yeah he was feeling her up and kissing her, of course something was happening... and then she remembered.

"No," she murmured, kissing him again.

Cal's fingers shifted to trace patterns against her exposed flesh and that made her shiver. "Still cold?" Cal asked innocently and Gillian moved far enough away from his face to give him an eye roll, which made him smirk, which made her smile slightly, then he chuckled, and her smile went wider and she opened her mouth to tell him to shut up when she did feel something. Something that was independent of what he was doing.

"Oh," she said instead of her request for him to refrain from speaking. "I can feel something."

"What?" Cal asked, his face intently interested. "Tell me."

"Tingling," Gillian responded. "And warm." And wow it was really starting to get intense. She dropped her hips down against him, absently seeking out some friction to ease her tension. Cal shifted his weight beneath her and turned her over onto her back. Gillian's hand was already easing between them, the desire to rub overwhelming.

"Geeze," Cal muttered, shifting awkwardly on the bed to push himself up again. "Wait."

"Can't," Gillian breathed. She was seriously coming undone quickly and the pressure of her finger felt incredible. Cal's hand tried to pull hers away but she just protested and resisted. He pulled her underwear away from her hips instead, all the way down the length of her legs and tossed them aside. Gillian clamped her legs shut tightly, needing the pressure.

"Oi," Cal said, sounding annoyed now. "You're stealin' my fun."

"Mine," Gillian shot back. She opened her eyes, not realising they were closed and looked down to see her husband looking up at her, his eyes dark, positioning between her legs, forcing them apart with his hands. She caved and opened her legs and the burn in her pelvis flared. Cal grabbed her wrist and shoved her hand away. "Cal!" She complained loudly.

"Shh," he warned her.

"Ok but stop talking and hurry up!" She cried pushing her hips up off the bed as he lowered his head. His mouth met her hard and he pressed his teeth against her. Gillian gave a little cry of relief and lowered her pelvis back to the bed. Cal shifted to reposition and the agony of needing release burned white hot until he was back. He started a different kind of ache, the low, coiling smokiness deep inside her. Gillian gave a hum of pleasure, feeling her body squirming like it had a mind of its own. Her hand slid into Cal's hair, pulling lightly until he pried her fingers loose and pushed his between hers. She gripped him tightly, wanting to cry out and he built her so high so quickly, but she had learnt to be quiet again; since hearing Owen was apparently able to actually... hear things...

And then she reached the point where she couldn't stand it any longer and she started begging. She could feel Cal's tongue swirling firmly against her and his fingers pushing in, curling up to tease, but it wasn't enough. Her breath huffed in her lungs and she pushed against him, rolling her hips back and forth in grinding agony. "Please," Gillian groaned again, her skin prickling with sweat, her breasts tingling with needing to be touched. "Please," Gillian whispered frantically. "Oh god please." She pushed her hips up desperately, reaching, reaching, worshipping his mouth. She felt Cal trying harder and harder still and finally, finally she tipped over. She fell hard into one of the most impressive orgasms of her life. She felt the pleasure ripple over her so many times so couldn't tell where the edge of her own body was anymore. She wasn't even sure she was breathing. But when she started to become aware of the bed sheets around her, she did note she wasn't unconscious, though her body was completely limp and unresponsive. More crept in and she could feel the warmth of her husband still resting against her legs, then she could feel him inside her and his lips gentle against the inside of her thighs.

Gillian felt deliciously dirty and salaciously sticky all over and lifted an arm to reach for her husband. He looked up at her, now that she was moving and sat back, slipping from her body like a whisper. He gave her a grin and brought his hand up to suck on his fingers and oh god it just made her want him more. "Did you get what you wanted?" Gillian asked him, sitting and shoving at his shoulders so he fell back against the bunched blanket.

Cal grinned as she crawled up his body, shifting his legs out from beneath himself awkwardly. "I think the question is, did you?" But Gillian had already reached his mouth, cutting off the end of his query. She kissed him fiercely, sweeping her tongue deeply, riding a hand down his body, nails scratching through the shirt he was wearing until she reached underwear. He was semi-hard but warm against her palm as she slid down the length of him firmly. He gave a wobbly groan against her teeth and his hand found her hips. "Gill," he tried, breaking away for a second.

"I want you," Gillian told him darkly and she was damned if she was going to be the only one getting off tonight. Not after that impressive performance. She shifted back, shoving his shirt high with both hands, noting the way his breath caught, making his stomach cave in sharply. She dropped her mouth to his left nipple, sucking and swirling her tongue against the sensitive skin. Cal gave another strangled groan, a leg coming up against her hip. She felt him twitch beneath her belly and took that as a good sign. She switched to the other side, biting this time, catching him off guard, making his hips press up into her, his hands gripping her harder and when his nipple was taught and his breath a little irregular, Gillian bit her way down his torso, leaving large teeth impressions that would fade quickly.

She reached his underwear and tugged it down, first with her teeth, looking up at her husband, whose eyes were dark, his face tense, and then when her teeth were ineffective she brought her hands beneath her to pull his boxers down. She fed fingers beneath his hips and over his butt to make the disrobing even and he lifted his pelvis slightly to help her. Gillian sat back to pull his underwear off over his feet, giving the bottom of his foot a tickle as her hands brushed against him. When he was naked from the waist down, she checked him out blatantly and he muttered a 'geeze' under his breath.

Gillian leaned down again, squeezing her own legs together to ease the building tension of her own, and pressed her mouth against the inside of his left thigh. She quickly grazed her teeth up, nipping as she went until she reached the top. Then she shifted her mouth to the side to trace her tongue up the length of him. Cal shivered and he quivered, growing a little bit harder. She could feel his hand in her hair, combing roughly until it lodged against her skull; the pressure of his fingertips was firm.

Gillian worked him over good and thorough until he started to be unable to control himself, until he was thick and hard and tremoring. Then Gillian shifted up and Cal gave a groan at the lack of contact. Gillian pressed a kiss against his jaw as she positioned herself over him, using one hand to guide. Cal turned his head to kiss her, bringing a hand to the back of her head to guide her himself. He kissed her hard but his kisses turned to curses as she slid slowly down on to him. Gillian grabbed a fist full of his t-shirt in each hand, at his shoulders, to steady herself. Cal pushed down on her shoulders with two large palms and she went a little bit further. Cal let her go and threw his head back against the mattress. Gillian watched his throat convulsing as he worked on getting a grip on himself. She waited for him, for once, and when he lowered his chin to look up at her again Gillian leaned forward onto her knees, pulling her hips up so he slid away from her again.

She dropped her head sharply to his shoulder and froze, afraid she was going to lose it this time. "Oh god Cal."

"I know," he groaned softly. They both had to calm it down a few notches, so Gillian waited and when she felt she had a grip on her body she stroked Cal a few times to see how he would react and he gave a little hum. His hand was gentle on her waist this time so she eased back up on her hands, and attempted shallow pushes of her hips. Cal looked up at her, his expression determined, so she went deeper and longer. His eyes fluttered half closed for a moment, then were back on her.

Cal reached for the edge of her shirt and shoved it up with his fingers to take a handful of each of her breasts. Gillian gave a pleased moan as she moved. Cal pushed himself up next, to take a nipple in his mouth, teasing her in much the same way she had done for him. Then he pulled away and moved his legs behind her, shifting her weight so she was sat back on his thighs. He pulled her shirt up, over her head, throwing it down against the bed, taking her breasts again to massage. Except, that made it harder for Gillian to move, sitting like that, and she wasn't as young as she used to be either. She leaned back, wrapping her arms around Cal's neck to take him with her as she lay back. They had to shift and move again to find the right position, but then Cal was leaning over her and she clawed his shirt up his back to bunch around his neck and then over his head and he had to move his hands one by one so remove the last of his clothing.

Cal pushed his hips against Gillian and another pleased moan escaped her throat. She moved her legs up to give him deeper friction but it also made her shiver. Cal moved slowly and purposefully, sliding deep, then pulling back in an agonising rhythm. Gillian could still feel the tingly warmth of the gel but it was nothing compared to the feeling of her husband deep within her, merging his body with hers. She had another fleeting thought to the ridiculousness of her insecurities and lifted her hips to meet his on the next stroke. He gave a surprised 'oh' but kept going, starting to build faster now. Gillian moved her hand to his chest, stroking over his nipple with her palm; her other hand was in his hair, was rubbing against his ear, was brushing against his jaw.

She encouraged him a little faster, knowing he had limits, but just needing a bit more and he complied, though he still opted for depth and deliberateness over raw speed. Cal's stamina lasted a lot longer that way. The second was less powerful than the first but there was something more about falling with her husband; something special. How soppy. Gillian gripped Cal tight against her as she felt the last of his tremors fade away. He pressed a kiss against the side of her throat. "Wow," he murmured.

"Yes," Gillian agreed on a whisper, feeling her skin start to cool uncomfortably. She shifted to snuggle beneath his body and he moved away, reaching for the blanket to cover them both, and then he was back for her to burrow against.

"I did good then?"

"Very good," Gillian agreed in a low voice. Cal gave a 'hmph' of acknowledgement and then she felt him relax suddenly against her, like he had just given up. She held him tighter for a moment, knowing he was drifting away to sleep. She pressed a kiss against his still damp hairline, feeling a surge of love and tenderness pouring out of her chest and towards him. Gillian closed her eyes. Wow indeed. What was meant to be a little bit of dirty fun had turned into something far more profound. Just the way she liked it.


	137. Chapter 137

The clip of Gillian's heels on the hard floor gave her entrance away. Cal looked up as she came into the room, five month old Lewis on her hip. Cal immediately gave Lewis a smile, getting to his feet from behind his desk. But Gillian's face was not happy and Cal's smile faded almost as quickly as she approached.

"How come I just got a call from a friend of mine who said she saw you kissing some woman on the street?" Her tone was tense and her eyes hard, cautious, searching. "A woman who wasn't me."

"Uh," Cal started. His mind raced. Lewis stared at him with big blue eyes and adorable blonde curls. But his wife's face was tired and annoyed. "The thing is..." he started.

Gillian jabbed a finger into his chest and he took a half step backwards, surprised. "I'm waiting."

"Geeze, all right," Cal rubbed the point on his sternum she had pushed. It actually hurt. "She was a... it was a... thing. A thing to see if, Loke-a recorded it, her husband..."

"It was work?" Gillian cut in.

"Yes! Work related I swear. I'd neva, Gill, come on. I wouldn't. You know that."

"Uh huh and so then why did I get a phone call from a friend, who isn't really a friend, letting me know my husband was kissing some big-breasted woman on a street outside a bar in the middle of the day?" Her face and tone did not change an inch.

"Ok so first of all, _she_ kissed me," Cal started to gather his wits again. Lewis yawned. Oh god he was so cute the wee tyke! Cal reached out a finger to rub his little cheek and Lewis made a grab for his hand.

"And second?" Gillian demanded.

"Second," Cal looked over at her again. He didn't have a second. Did he? Damnit Lewis, too cute. "Second, I'd _neva_ do that. I've neva cheated and I neva will. Specially with someone as fake as she was. And it was disgustin'."

"I don't need details. Why didn't you tell me?" She was still mad.

"Well," Cal hesitated, trying to read a thaw on her face that didn't seem to be there. Yet. Yet, because Gillian was logical and reasonable and she'd see, wouldn't she? "Cos I wasn't sure you'd be so open to the fact that some otha woman kissed me."

"Of course I wouldn't be open to that," Gillian gave him a little huff. She shifted the weight on her hip and Cal reached out his arms to take the baby. Gillian let him go but had to pry his fingers from a lock on her dress.

"Hi darlin'," Cal cooed to his son. Lewis grabbed a fistful of his shirt. "How are you today huh?" He smoothed a large hand over Lewis's curls. The boy stared up at him. Cal pressed a kiss to his soft forehead; mmm he smelt like clean baby.

"But at least you would have been honest with me."

"I wasn't lyin'."

"But it's somewhat deceitful to _not_ tell me," Gillian countered. "I don't need every detail of your day Cal, but this, something like this, this counts as the kind of things you should tell me about immediately. So I don't get phone calls," she grouched.

Cal looked over at her again, swaying slightly with his son. Gillian's face had softened, apparently she had run out of steam. She leaned against the edge of his desk, so she was perched, but she still didn't look happy.

"You're right," Cal said. Two magic words in marriage. He'd learnt that one a long time ago. But it wasn't just about admitting defeat or keeping his wife happy by making her right. It was that, well in this instance, Gillian actually _was_ right, he should have told her; but it was also something more. He wasn't sure he knew how to explain it but with Zoe he had always just told her she was right to keep the peace. It almost became an automatic response. He didn't even care. With Gillian it wasn't mere appeasement, but letting her know he understood where she was coming from and that he was paying attention to her, to what was important to her, and that he was learning from his mistakes. That was what it was about. After the fighting when she was pregnant, and then Mitchell, both of which left an unpleasant taste in Cal's mouth, what he wanted was to have a good relationship with his wife.

Lewis jerked his head back suddenly and Cal brought up his right hand to cup the back of his warm head. He gave the baby a little jiggle but held Gillian's gaze. "I should have told you. I was... a little afraid of how you'd take it but mostly I didn't know what to say. I didn't like it. Kissin' her. It was," he gave a slight and quick disgust expression. "It wasn't like kissin' you." And Cal felt a pang in his gut that reinforced everything that had just come out of his mouth. He probably shouldn't have brought up the kissing bit again, because really, that wasn't what Gillian was upset about. She was upset about the fact that he hadn't been upfront with her. It seemed she was willing to over look the lip lock for now. So there was only one more thing to add: "I'm sorry luv."

Gillian pushed away from the desk again. She was just daring to wear those form fitted dresses again, even if she wasn't the size she was before she had a baby. This one was a loose one, but still, and heels, and she was, despite looking tired, looking good again. Not again. She didn't _not_ look good...

Gillian stood in front of Cal, adjusting Lewis's red t-shirt around his waist. The five month old looked over at her and gave her a smile and she immediately melted. "Hi," she cooed at him. "You're so smiley today."

"Aw you givin' your Mum lots of smiles huh?" Cal asked him. "Are there smiles for Daddy?"

Lewis ignored him.

Gillian leaned in to her husband and gave him a soft kiss. "I forgive you," she murmured softly.

'_Oh thank god_,' Cal felt relieved. "I won't do it again."

"Ah!" Lewis cried, grabbing his mother now that she was close.

"Good," Gillian murmured as she gave him another kiss. "Ugh you taste different," she pulled away quickly. Cal was surprised. He didn't did he? She must be projecting. Gillian grabbed Lewis and pulled him free from his father's arms. "Shall we make Daddy sleep on the couch tonight?"

"You said you forgave me," Cal protested.

"That was before I detected different lip gloss on your lips," Gillian still spoke to Lewis even though she was addressing her husband.

Cal wiped at his mouth. "But I..."

"I'm teasing," Gillian looked over at him, a slight glitter in her blue eyes.

"Not fair," Cal grumped. "I should get a handicap."

"In what? Marital stuff ups?"

Oh wow she was on a role today.

"Or a free bloody pass," Cal grumped.

"I think you should suck it up," Gillian retorted.

Cal raised a finger, pointing at her face. "I saw that. You're still mad at me."

Gillian gave him an unimpressed expression, adopting the rock he had done before now that she had the baby back. "Give me a chance to process. According to my friend you're such a typical cheating bastard."

Cal's expression went beyond unimpressed. "Who is this friend?"

"Not a very good friend. I distinctly heard gloating in her tone."

"Is that the scientific term for it?"

"It is in the world of women."

"Hm," Cal noted. Lewis slapped at his mother's breast. She grabbed his hand and jiggled it back and forth to distract him.

Gillian looked over at him. "She really isn't a very good friend. And I'm not mad at you." She paused. "Maybe a little. For not telling me, not the kissing part. Although that's not great," her tone went dry.

"I'm sorry and I won't do eitha of those things again," Cal repeated.

"Hmph," Gillian responded haughtily. "I should hope not."

Cal wasn't sure he should laugh. He wasn't sure if he was entirely out of the woods yet. He was going to have to make it up to her. Some serious romance. Totally take her mind off what a wanker he could be at times. Remind her that he was actually one of the good guys and that he was trying to be an even better one.

"We have to go now," Gillian spoke to Lewis. "Wave goodbye to Dad." Still holding their son's hand, Gillian gave it a shake in Cal's direction.

"Bye darlin'," Cal responded stepping forward to smooth Lewis's hair again and press a kiss to the boy's forehead. "Bye darlin'," Cal repeated, raising his gaze to his wife. He pressed a kiss against her cheek.

"Pathetic," Gillian murmured.

Oh yeah, she was in fine form today.

Cal pressed his lips against hers in a closed mouth kiss but she teased him open, inviting more intimacy. It made his stomach quiver a little and he felt guilt flood his system. What was he thinking flirting with their target in a bar and then letting her man-handle him outside it? He was in love with his wife. He wanted no one else but his wife. Ah geeze he had almost right royally screwed this up.

"See you at home," Gillian told him as she pulled away again.

Cal felt the stupor of being around her slow him down for a second. He pulled himself free again; this was not the time or place to wallow in how amazing it felt to be in love. "Yep," he managed before she had got too far away. He watched her calves in those heels, then her backside as his wife retreated across his office. Lewis stared at him over the back of his mother's shoulder. Cal raised his hand to wave with a smile. When he reached the door, Lewis suddenly broke out in a brilliant smile for his Dad.


	138. Chapter 138

Cal headed into the day care, having flashbacks of going to pick his sons up. The day care wasn't the exact same place his boys had gone to, but the call and laughter of children's voices in the air and the smell of play dough, paint and disinfectant in the room was certainly familiar. Cal's boys were teenagers now and he was there today to pick up little Gracie. She was three and a half, looking so much like her mother at the same age as well, dark curly hair and dark wide eyes.

"Poppa!" She found him first and rushed forward from the throng smaller bodies.

"Hi Gracie darlin'," Cal crouched to her level.

"You come get me today."

"Yep. Cos Mum's not feelin' well rememba?"

The little girl nodded solemnly. And Dad was at work. Ethan was in school. Gillian was also working and so that pretty much left Cal. Which was totally fine by him. He was officially retired now anyway.

"Mum was chucking," Grace told him.

Cal pulled a face of disgust. "You go get your bag ok and then we'll go."

Grace nodded quickly before running off again. Cal was approached for polite conversation. He proudly pointed out he was Grace's grandfather. He also had a thirteen year old as well, and an almost eighteen year old, but he wasn't going to mention that, when he was also a granddad. When Grace returned she wanted him to meet her friends so he said hello to them too, little boys with dimpled grins and girls with ribbons in their hair. Cal had forgotten how adorable little people could be; and Grace was particularly adorable. She was wearing striped white and black leggings with a ruffled purple skirt, pink t-shirt over an aqua and purpled striped long-sleeved undershirt and red sandals; she had presumably picked out her own clothes that morning. Her hair was pulled back into a rough ponytail, probably by her father that morning before she was dropped off at day care; there were bumps and a tuft of hair sticking up through the hair band. The thing was, the entire look totally suited the little girl.

"Ready to go Gracie?" Cal asked her once her friend's parents had all come to take them home.

"Yup," Grace nodded and skipped towards the door, the pack on her back bouncing as she jumped and hopped. Cal followed her and took her hand as they went out into the parking lot. He let her into the back of his car and strapped her in himself. He didn't have her car seat so he tucked the over-shoulder strap under her arm instead. "Poppa do we go home now?"

"No you're gonna come home with me to my house and hang out for a bit. Reckon that'd be cool?"

"Yup," Grace nodded again. "I like your house."

Cal gave her a smile. "Me too. We'll make somethin' for aftanoon tea."

"Oooh I like them cookies."

"Ok we can make cookies," Cal closed her door gently and went around to the driver's side.

"With the choco chips."

"Sure, chocolate chips," Cal agreed easily.

Once they were inside Grace rushed through to the kitchen and then called back for Cal to hurry up. Cal gave himself a slight eye roll. When he was in the kitchen as well he could see Grace had already pulled a stool closer so she could stand up and reach the bench. Well, she was reaching for the tap to wash her hands but it was just slightly out of reach, even on her tip toes. The stool was only about a foot tall, the one the boys used to utilise to be able to reach the sink in the bathroom to do their teeth. It was now for little grandchildren to assist with baking.

Cal lifted Grace a little and turned the tap on, holding her up with his thigh and hip, gently pressing her against the edge of the bench. They washed their hands together. When Grace was finished and Cal put her down again to grab something to dry their hands with, she wiped her hands down the front of her pink shirt. "Oi," Cal admonished. "Use a towel." He tossed one to her.

Grace gave him a grin, baring neat white teeth, her brown eyes mischievous like her mother's. "We make the cookies with the chips?"

"Yes," Cal agreed. "What are we gonna need?"

"Butter and flowers."

"Yep," Cal confirmed. "You grab the flour from the pantry." While Grace disappeared Cal grabbed the recipe book from the cupboard above the fridge. He also grabbed the butter while he was over there. They read through the recipe again, grabbing the ingredients one at a time. Cal lifted the little girl so she could get the chocolate from the higher shelf; he retrieved the sugar. From the fridge they got eggs, one for each hand.

"Do you rememba how to measure the flour?" Cal asked, getting a bowl and the scales.

"You make the numbers say the same," Grace informed him.

"Very good." Well she should know, they made this recipe often enough. Cal put the scales together and rested the bowl on top of them. He put the container of flour on the bench next to where Grace was now sitting. He showed her whereabouts on the scales the line should go to and left her to spoon the flour from the large container into the bowl. Cal turned the oven on and prepared the tray for their cookies. He cut the butter and set it on the stove in a pot on a very low heat to melt slowly.

"I finished," Grace informed him.

Cal went over to check. She was pretty accurate but he did suggest taking some of the flour out to make the needle swing back half an inch the other way. Grace measured out the sugar and cracked the eggs into the mix one by one, digging her fingers into the shell to let the white and yolk run out. "All the baby chickies," Grace mused as she worked.

Cal went to get the butter. The recipe was incredibly straightforward. Dump everything in together. Mix. Shape. Put in oven. Eat. Yummy. He held Grace again while she washed off the little chickies from her little fingers and sat her on the bench again. He did the initial mixing while Grace tossed in chocolate buttons, one by one until she felt there were enough. "I'll have a turn," Cal told her, taking the bag. He grabbed a big handful and threw it into the mix as well. He let Grace try to fold them in, but the mix was a dough now and too tough for her smaller muscles.

"All right darlin'," Cal halted her. "Time to make them into cookies I think." He brought the oven tray over.

"Make a doggie Pop Pop."

"All right. And what are you gonna make?"

"Um I make a flower."

"Lovely," Cal noted. He rolled Grace's sleeves up and they both dived in, grabbing handfuls of the mix. Cal made a rough shape of an animal's body, with four legs and a tail, then poked a little hole in for its eyes. By the time the dough cooked and spread, it would look more like a blob. Same for Grace's flower. Why did they not have animal shaped cookie cutters? Cal was going to lay a complaint with Gramma.

Grace ate some of the raw dough and they made stars, triangles, circles and squares, then a fairy/angel, washed their hands off and put the cookies into the oven. Cal set the timer while Grace danced around beside him, peering into the oven to see the dough already starting to heat up. "How long Pop?"

"Twenty minutes," Cal answered.

"What we do now?" Grace looked up at him.

"Hm," Cal pretended to think. "What shall we do?"

Grace gave him a smile and approached with her arms raised to be picked up. Cal lifted her easily; she was like a little bird. "We watch the movie?"

"Only until the cookies are ready," Cal warned. "And then it will be home time." He carried her to the couch and put her down on a cushion.

"Do you save the movie?"

"Yes I didn't watch it without you," Cal answered. Guess which movie? _The Wizard of Oz_. Yeah, it was some sort of family tradition now. Cal blamed Lewis. He told the girl it was his favourite movie as a kid and had started watching it with her. She was hooked. Every time she came over now she wanted to watch it. She liked the munchkins, and the songs, and the ruby red slippers. She wanted some red shoes of her own. So, so much.

The move was paused on the hard drive where they had been up to last time Cal was on babysitting duties. Ethan wasn't quite the fan that Grace was, so he had been playing with Owen upstairs. They were up to the bit where Dorothy had smacked the Cowardly Lion on his nose and Cal felt a song coming on. Grace crawled into his lap and used him like an arm chair. Cal even raised his arms for her to rest on and she giggled her appreciation for a second, before being completely absorbed in the movie again.

"I don't like this," Grace suddenly announced, bringing a hand up to her hair to tug at the hair band. "It's hurting me."

"I'll get it," Cal told her. Grace retracted her hand and Cal gently pulled the lime green tie from her hair. He placed it on the cushion beside them and Grace immediately leaned back against his chest, her warm body quickly relaxing into him. Cal wrapped his arms around her like a rollercoaster ride restraint.

On the screen, Dorothy, Cowardly Lion, Tin Man and Scarecrow all decided to travel together, and skipped off down the yellow brick road into the scary forest. They popped out the other end of the darkness into a field bright with poppies; the shiny Emerald City was in the far background. Grace let out a little 'ooooh' of appreciation. Her head came back sharply to look up at him. "Look at the petty flowers Pop Pop."

"Lovely," Cal agreed with a nod. Grace turned back to watch the movie. Cal reached up a hand to comb his fingers through the girl's thick curly hair. No, he didn't think so, no brushing this morning. He felt like tsking the shoddy work. Then he remembered morning's brushing Emily's hair for school and just not being able to make it look like how she wanted. She had teared up on occasion but, she had never accused him of not being her mother, though she must have thought it. Cal had only one to deal with, whereas Ajay had to organise Ethan _and_ Grace. And girls were so much more demanding.

The buzzer on the oven went off and Grace sat up abruptly. "Oh! The cookies! Pause it!"

"I'm pausin'," Cal already had a finger on the button. He froze the screen and Grace scrambled to the floor. She rushed around to the kitchen, Cal following quickly after her. He turned the timer off while Grace peered through the window to see their creations. "Do they look good?" Cal asked her.

"They're all big and fluffly," Grace informed him.

Fluffly?

Cal got her to move away a little bit while he opened the oven door and observed close up himself. He probably needed his glasses on for closer detail, but he figured they were ready. Twenty minutes was usually just the right amount. "All right let's grab them out," Cal told Grace and reached for an oven mitt. He pushed Grace back further and opened the door with his left hand, reaching for the tray with his right. He carefully extracted it, expertly keeping an eye on all cookies and his granddaughter at the same time. But she was pretty good and knew to wait because it was hot. Cal put the tray on top of the oven. And studied the cookies, giving the angel a little prod. She seemed pretty solid and he deemed them cooked. He turned off the oven.

"I get a plate!" Grace announced going for the pantry. She came back with the plastic composite bunny that had been Lewis's once upon a time. Unbeknownst to Cal, many things had gone into storage for the use of grandchildren. Gillian thought ahead. And Cal was glad she did, because he liked the idea of tradition.

"They're gonna be hot," Cal warned Grace, keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn't touch the oven or attempt to reach the tray, while he went to get a spatula.

"But we have them now?" Grace asked. "Cos the choco is runny."

"We can have one now," Cal agreed. "We could save one for Dad and Ethan?" They had made enough.

"And one for Gramma," Grace agreed with an excited little grin. "Gramma has the angel."

"Ok. Which one do you want?"

"I have the star."

Cal told her to hold her plate up and scooped up the cookie to place on it. He warned her to keep the plate flat otherwise the cookie would end up on the floor. "Which one should I have?"

"Um you have the circle."

"All right," Cal scooped that one up too and put it on Grace's plate.

"Daddy has the doggie and Thegn has the triangle."

"Then there'll be one left ova," Cal noted.

"You has it."

"Have it," Cal corrected. He scooped it up and also put it on their plate. The others he put onto a rack to cool and Grace waited patiently for him to finish. She carried their afternoon snack back to the couch, putting the plate on the cushion before climbing up and pulling it back into her lap. Cal sat next to her this time. "Are they yummy?"

"Ahmph," Grace agreed, her mouth full. Cal took his circle and bit into it. It was good. And Grace was right, they were better with the chocolate warm and still runny. They watched more of the movie, splitting the square in half to share. Cal gave her the bigger half, had a fleeting thought he might be ruining her dinner a little, decided that was his duty as a grandparent.

Half an hour later Cal paused the movie at the end of a scene. Grace looked over at him aghast. "It's nearly home time," Cal warned her.

"Aw but I won't know what happened," Grace pouted.

"You've seen this before!" Cal reached out a hand to tickle her. Grace laughed and squirmed away, kicking her feet.

"No no no!" She cried out and Cal let her go. She clicked her heels together three times. "No place like home. No place like home."

Cal grinned, surprised, entertained.

Grace looked up at him suddenly. "But Gramma's cookie."

"I'll make sure she gets it."

"I give it her."

Cal checked the time again. Gillian might have finished with her patients for the day. Ethan had gone to a friend's after school, but soon Ajay would be home from work, and that was when Cal was meant to drop Grace back home. There would be time to go and see Gillian before that. "We can go and see if Gramma is not busy. But she might be," Cal warned.

"Let's go see," Grace decided, sliding forward down the couch. Her skirt rode up as she dropped to the floor.

"Plate!" Cal called before she could walk away. Grace turned back with that little smile of hers and took it with both hands. They tided the kitchen away, returning the ingredients, stacking the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and placing the extra cookies into two containers, one for Ajay and Ethan, the angel into another one for Gillian.

Cal put Grace back in his car and headed through the city to Gillian's office building. They went past the Lightman Group, now headed jointly by Eli and Ria, who shared Cal's office. Cal was supposed to use Gillian's now if he bothered to call in, and Gillian still used it on occasion when she went in to not really do much more than just check that everything was going fine. There had been a slight dip in business when it was known the Lightman had left the building, but it seemed to be righting itself again and Cal supposed that meant Eli and Ria were holding up to expectations. As for what would happen to the business once he and Gillian actually left the earth; it was a conversation he was avoiding having. Things had changed, plans needed to be remade.

"There's Pop's work!" Grace called out from the back seat as they drove around it, heading further up the street to Gillian's building. Cal supposed, technically, his three children would inherit the business but he wondered if Eli and Ria would keep it running, or if the kids would want to keep it going. He wasn't even sure how involved they would want to be. He wondered if it would be easier all around to dissolve it. He wasn't working there anymore but it was his pride and joy. Hence the avoidance.

Cal pulled into a park on the street and told Grace to be very careful getting out. He went around to her side quickly; to make sure she didn't run out into traffic and had to remind her to grab her cookie. They walked inside; Grace had two hands carefully on the angel. She reached up to push the button for the lift and rocked back on her feet while they waited. Cal pulled her to stand aside to let the two men off the car before they got on it and lifted her to push the button for Gillian's floor. The hallway was empty when they stepped out again.

Grace, in her excitement, rushed to the right doorway but she waited for Cal to get there and open the door. She walked in confidently, then stood in the middle of the room waiting for her grandfather to catch her up. There was no one else in there but the receptionist. "Hi," she greeted with a smile but it seemed Grace had suddenly gotten shy.

"Hi," Cal echoed. "Is Gill still about?"

"Yes she's still here."

"She with someone?" Cal gave Grace a nudge forward and guided her to the desk.

"No her last appointment finished half an hour ago."

"Oh great," Cal enthused and turned Grace to head for Gillian's office. "Thank you."

Gillian's office was on the far right, down a little bit of corridor. At the end was a second exit, so their patient's could leave with some privacy. Cal stopped Grace in front of the correct closed door. "I knock?" She asked looking up at him.

"Yeah you go ahead munchkin."

"I the good fairy no the munchkin," Grace told him seriously.

"Sorry," Cal quickly apologised.

Grace knocked, her little hand tapping lightly against the door. It opened a second later and Gillian was standing there smiling. "I thought I heard voices," she said in greeting. "Hi Grace."

"Gramma I bought you a angel." Grace held up the container proudly.

Gillian stepped aside to let them in. "Did you do baking with Pop this afternoon?"

"We made cookies," Grace nodded, standing right in front of her grandmother. Cal had to nudge her aside from the doorway to get by her. He leaned over the girl to give his wife a quick kiss as she took the container with her cookie in it from the three year old, the diamond ring on her finger still drawing Cal's eye.

"Thank you," Gillian responded warmly, her eyes dancing as they glanced at Cal, smiling, and he wondered if she meant him for the kiss or the kid for the cookie. Cal crossed the room and took a seat on the couch. Gillian closed the door while Grace rattled on about how Emily was sick and she'd gone to day care that day and then Pop, who she pointed at, in case Gillian didn't know who he was, came to get her and they watched the Wizard movie and made cookies. Cal raised a hand to wiggle his fingers in greeting. "Wow," Gillian enthused, heading over to the armchair while the girl talked. "Sounds like a very good day. I like what you're wearing."

Grace curled her hands in front of her, turning them over on themselves and locking her elbows and gave a pleased grin and a little bob, like she was curtseying. "I got mine ruby slippers on."

Gillian looked down at her red sandals. "They're very pretty."

"My Mom got me them."

"You're very lucky," Gillian told her. She popped open the lid of her container and Cal had to try incredibly hard not to laugh at her expression as she saw her angel. The angel, to be fair, had blobbed like the doggie had and now it was more like a misshapen overweight Blair Witch Doll with a pillar in its back. Gillian looked at Cal.

"Luckily, it still tastes good," he noted, amused.

"Did you make this for me?" Gillian asked Grace, who nodded, smiling, pleased and proud, swinging her body around from left to right, like she was a piece of string winding up. "It's very cool." She made the sign deliberately for Grace to see.

"You eat it," Grace told her, grouping her fingers and bringing them to her mouth. Gillian always made a point to sign to their grandkids, Cal, to be honest, was a bit slack.

"Now?"

"Now," Cal agreed with a nod. "And then we have to take Gracie home."

Grace stood in front of Gillian who raised the malformed angel to her mouth and took a delicate bite. "Mmm, it's so good. Thank you Grace," Gillian moved straight fingers from her mouth forward towards the little girl.

"I had a star," Grace informed her.

"Was it good?"

Grace nodded again. Cal watched the intense way the little girl focussed on his wife; it was like he didn't exist now, completely forgotten. Like he had a natural bond with Lewis, Gillian had one with Grace. It was so nice she finally had a little girl to dote all over. Gillian finished her cookie and thanked Grace again. Grace climbed into her grandmother's lap for a cuddle. Gillian combed her fingers through the girl's hair, working out the tangles, asking her what she had done at day care that day. Cal watched them from the couch, silently enjoying seeing his wife as a grandmother. Gillian plaited Grace's hair gently, forming a far better bind than the girls' father had that morning. Cal realised they'd left Grace's hair tie at home and got up and went to Gillian's desk, finding one in the first draw and bringing it over. Gillian gave him a smile in thanks. Cal hovered while she bound the end of the plait and Gillian seamlessly reminded Grace that it was time to go home.

Grace slid to the floor and put a hand back to feel her hair. "Is it pretty?"

"Very," Cal answered.

"I'll miss you Gramma," Grace threw herself at Gillian.

Gillian stood, pulling the girl up with her. "I'll see you soon," she reassured. She headed for the door, holding Grace tightly. Cal followed. "Thank you for coming to see me. It was nice to see you."

"You're nice," Grace told her.

"Thank you," Gillian gave a slight laugh. "I think you're nice too." They swapped kisses, had another squeeze, then Gillian put the girl down again and opened the door. Cal got closer to exit but Gillian stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Cal turned to her and she planted a kiss on his lips. "I think you're also nice," she told him.

"Thanks very much. I think you're nice and all."

"See you at home?"

"You shall," Cal agreed.

"Is Owen home?"

"He should be by now."

"Bye Pop Pop."

"Bye Gramma," Cal echoed.

They headed across the city again, Grace chattering away in the background about what Cal wasn't entirely sure. It was harder to hear the girl when she was murmuring and he only caught the occasional word. They pulled up at Grace's home and she excitedly unclipped her belt and let herself out. Cal went around to close her door and grab the container of cookies for Ajay and Ethan. Emily was at the door when Cal approached, Grace bombarding her with words. She was still in her pyjamas and bathrobe. "Hey Dad," Emily greet warily.

"You look awful," Cal told her.

"Thanks."

"Not feelin' betta?"

Emily gave a slight shake of her head. "I think it's that bug Ethan had earlier this week."

"Right," Cal nodded.

"I talking!" Grace informed them hotly.

"Sorry," Emily told her. "You go in and I'll come in, in a minute to listen," she stood aside to let her daughter past. "Want to come in?" She asked her father.

"I gotta get home for Owen," Cal apologised. He handed over the cookies. "For those who are eatin' in this household."

Emily gave a resigned nod.

"I'd give you a kiss goodbye but I don't wanna catch wateva you've got."

Emily gave him a chagrined smile. "Thanks for having her."

"My pleasure," Cal gave a genuine smile as he stepped down from the stoop. "Feel betta." He turned, with a slight wave, and headed back for his car.


	139. Chapter 139

AN: M rated chapter

**PJ**

Gillian woke to the buzz of an engine. It sounded like lawn mower or a chainsaw, but as she came awake she identified the annoyance as, indeed, a lawn mower. Which obnoxious neighbour in particular felt the need to get up at the crack of dawn and cut their grass on a Sunday morning? Gillian turned over amongst the pile of blanket all around her, feeling lost in the great swathes of it, and reached for Cal. She had to sit up to see he wasn't there and she felt a pang. He was going to Africa. This week in fact. She didn't want him to go but she wasn't going to ask him to stay. If she did, if she dared voice the request, it would only make him leaving harder to bear. Because when he said 'no', it would only make the both of them feel worse about it. So she didn't. Because she found that refusal could offend.

Gillian checked the time next. It was after ten. Wow that was one hell of a sleep in. But she must have really needed it because she actually felt good. And it also let the annoying grass cutting neighbour off the hook. Gillian climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. After she brushed her teeth, she went to find her husband.

It was Cal mowing the freaking lawns. He must have already done the small section out the front and now he was on to the back. Gillian headed into the kitchen, smelling fresh coffee but not quite wanting some. She had had a really good night's sleep and besides, the image of her husband was suddenly so much more interesting. She caught a glimpse of him in the kitchen window but went out to stand on the deck to really get a good look. He was shirtless, which drew her eye in the first place, but as she studied him she could see he was in workman's boots and dirty jeans, riding low because he had no belt on to help hold them up, which meant she could see dark lines of his underwear in the back, and when he turned towards her to mow the second to last strip, in the front, around his...

Cal raised a hand to give her a slight wave and Gillian felt her heart rate rising. The tattoos, and the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the underwear, and how was it possible for him to cut the grass with that _swagger_? He came close and turned again and the start of summer sun glistened the sweat over his back. Gillian's stomach quivered. '_Oh dear god_,' Gillian breathed. She was going to have to have him.

Cal turned the mower again to face the house and cut the engine, finished. He pulled off his hearing protection and gave the mower a shove, then walked into it, pushing it ahead of him. Gillian could see the muscles in his arms bunch under the effort, a small effort, but still, and as he got even closer she could see a thick cord of something running over the top of his biceps; a vein or artery or sinew or she was having a hard time with details right now.

Cal left the mower and approached where his wife was standing in thin pyjamas on the deck, staring at him, practically undressing him; he recognised that look on her face. And he was not one to let an opportunity pass him by. He added a little extra jaunt to his step and saw Gillian take in a slightly sharper breath and hold it. Her gaze never left his as he hopped up the steps and came to stand in front of her. Her hands reached for his hips absently and he grinned. "Mornin'."

"Mmm morning," Gillian agreed, her lips staying parted, inviting. Her hair was still mussed from bed and her cheeks were a little pink. Could be the sun. Could be something else.

"You have a good sleep?" Cal went on. She had been dead-to-the-world peaceful when he got up.

"Uh huh," Gillian nodded. Her eyes had already gone dark and Cal wondered how long it would be before she would cave. She liked to pretend she had some self control but Cal knew her too well. She struggled sometimes to keep her hands off; lucky for him. "You're up early."

"Wanted to," Cal gestured to the yard. "Tidy things up before I go away."

The comment clouded Gillian's features and he realised he had made a mistake in mentioning that. So far, they were operating on the assumption that if they didn't talk about it, then it wasn't happening. Not entirely healthy but there it was. That was how it seemed they were both coping. But that was exactly why Cal had got up early to mow the lawn. Some sort of misguided sense of making sure she was taken care of before he left. Gillian often brought out misguided protectiveness in Cal. It came from a good place but considering her strength and independence she would scoff in his face if he told her about the half of it. So he often didn't tell her about the half of it.

The cloud pass over Gillian's face in a second and Cal leaned down to give her a soft kiss,. "Maybe I could put you in the showa and clean you up too."

Gillian gave a slight smirk and her hand came to his shoulder. "_You_ need a shower. You're all sweaty."

"Yeah you know me. I like to get dirty."

Gillian shivered and Cal was glad he had managed to bring things back on track. Gillian looked up at him, her blue eyes going dark again. She licked her lips hungrily and Cal waited, poised and tense. When she didn't move, Gillian sighed, brought an arm around the back of his neck and drew his head down so she could kiss him, pushing up on her toes to close the short distant decisively. Cal brought her in tight against his body, feeling the pressure of her breasts against his bare chest. She tasted like mint; she must have literally just got up. Especially if there were no hints of coffee on her tongue.

Gillian gave a guttural gulping sound and her fingers tightened on the back of Cal's shoulder. He pushed against her and she took a step backwards. He could feel her lungs working against his body and the desperation in her kiss. He knew she was going to demand release quickly. She bit at his lips and pulled on his tongue hard. Her hand lowered to his groin and squeezed. Cal dropped his mouth to her neck, kissing and nuzzling, grasping her breast in his left hand; his right continued to push her against his body. He pumped his hips into her slowly and she gave a huff.

Cal pried an eye open. Where? There. The lounger. He pushed her backwards again and she stumbled back but he didn't give her a chance to react before he was on her again, kissing her hard, shuffling her back a little more. He felt her calves hit the lounger because she stumbled but he controlled her fall and knelt over her quickly, guiding her back into position. "Cal," she murmured low.

"Sh," he told her off and took her mouth again, delving deep with his tongue, noticing the pressure in his groin was starting to get uncomfortable. He stroked around her nipple with his left hand again, a little clumsy, but he was holding up his weight with his right and Gillian gave another huff, a cross between pleasure and wanting to protest. Cal could feel everything through the thin material of what Gillian deemed 'summer pyjamas'. Her nipple went hard under his touch and she pushed her hips up to meet his before he crushed her down again, preventing her from moving. He palmed her breast hard, feeling the soft firmness give way and Gillian moaned. She pushed her hands between them, grabbing him through the material of his jeans and when that apparently wasn't satisfying enough for her, she popped open the buttons of his fly and slipped a hand inside, to grip him through his briefs.

Cal pushed his hips closer. "That feels good," he encouraged in a low murmur against her ear. Gillian gave a strained 'mmm' and opened her eyes to look up at him. She took him in one hand, his balls in the other and then smiled at the expression on his face. "Fuckin' fantastic," Cal added. He kissed her again, pumping his hips, but prepared to be patient. The heat of the sun at his back prickled sweat and he felt his cheeks flush. Gillian turned her head to bite the sensitive skin of his neck and Cal let her have control for a moment, keeping still so he could feel everything she was doing, squeezing her breast gently, relaxing, squeezing, relaxing.

Cal felt himself start to throb and decided that was enough. He pulled back abruptly, leaving Gillian panting, her hands falling to her sides. He shifted all the way down the lounger so he was crouched on the wooden deck. He shifted his underwear a little to give himself more room and Gillian parted her legs a little bit more in anticipation. Cal gave her a dirty grin and raised himself up again. Gillian's legs went wider, her hips raised up off the lounger and her mouth parted. Cal pressed his hands to each side of her hips and started to push down, bunching the elastic waistband of her pyjama pants beneath his palms. He tucked his fingers in and pulled down. The material slid easily. She wasn't wearing any underwear and Cal could see straight away how ready she was. The smell of summer cut grass mixed with the thrilling scent of her.

Cal slid his hands all the way down her calves, pushing his wife's pyjamas to her ankles and leaving them there. Then he pulled her left knee to the side, turning it so he could suckle at the flesh in the curve; he could smell the sweat on her skin. He trailed his mouth quickly up her inner thigh, nipping lightly, making her breath struggle again. When he was within reach her fingers slid into his hair, combing and she muttered something he didn't catch. But he wasn't listening anyway, because he was so close. He had to force himself to tease a little more, and not just dive on in, because he liked to make it last. He liked to wind her up. That was the best bit.

He could feel Gillian straining for him, the way she shifted her hips closer, moving her body weight from side to side to inch down towards him. Her knees came up beneath him, tilting her pelvis back, inviting him. She must have kicked the pyjama bottoms free because she hooked a leg over the arm of the lounger, totally open, trusting, asking. Cal obliged. She was exquisitely hot and as soon as he made contact he sucked hard, taking her into his mouth with force, his groin thundering in a way that forced him to reach down and pull himself free. Gillian came alive beneath him instantaneously. Her hips pushed up against him, her fingers tightened in his hair, she gave a moan, her thighs tensed around him and she full body shivered.

Cal sucked again, as if he could rip her away from herself and she cried out, not words, just sounds. Cal didn't even give a shit that they were outside and could be heard. The neighbours could probably hear them going at it through the wall on a good night. What did he care? The way she reacted just made him want more, it made him twitch and shiver in delight and he hadn't even started yet. Cal broke away so he could shift, tucking his legs beneath him in a kneel, pushing back on Gillian's ass so her hips were pointed up. He slung her legs over his shoulders quickly and just as she started to regain her senses he lowered his head again from above.

He started slow, now that he had released some tension, rolling his tongue around her, then darting in and out, before licking straight up and down. Gillian shivered again, her hands returning to his hair, petting gently, encouraging. She gave a hum of contentment. Cal worked his way to the top, took her between his teeth, and worked them firmly back and forth. Gillian let out an 'oh' and her breathing became pronounced again. She pushed down with her thighs, making her hips push up into Cal's face again.

Cal brought his hands up, gripping the flesh of her ass in both palms, massaging firmly. Then he switched and smoothed them up and down as he worked his mouth down too, swirling his tongue to find every inch. He tucked his left index finger into the gap between her backside and she tensed against him, blocking him. With her distracted, Cal shifted his right hand quickly, pushing his right index finger against her making her curse. He teased around and around the edge, then up and down, watching what he was doing intently. He felt the prickle of Gillian's gaze on him and glanced up at her face. Her expression flickered between an intense stare, shimmering ecstasy, then back to fucking him hard with her eyes.

Cal felt his stomach shiver excessively and his groin twitched violently to remind him that it would not be neglected. All in good time. He went back to running his finger against her, pushing the tip as he searched the way. He reached the top of her again and pressed directly against the bundle of nerves, hard, like he was pushing in a stubborn button. Gillian gave another soft cry, another shift of her body, squirming. Heat flooded out of her and Cal dipped his head to taste again. She whimpered once more and Cal realised she was coming undone. Her fingers had tightened in his hair yet again, clinging on, and her thighs were closer around his ears, distorting the sound of his own breathing.

Cal swapped his hand and mouth, pressing his teeth against her, pinning her down, while his finger slid inside her warmth easily. Gillian gave another moan, her hips pushed up against him, her fingers clawed; she was getting closer, closer, close. Cal heard her pant in succession to regain some control but she was quickly losing out as he worked his tongue down to his own finger and back up again, swirling, searching, sucking, scraping, while his finger curled and caressed, coiled and crafted.

Cal teased an orgasm out of her, drawing it slowly so she didn't even know it had started before it was already in full swing. Cal felt the small tremors beginning and slowed his movements down to withdraw gently so she wouldn't notice he was gone. He moved up her body as it quivered beneath him, leaning on the raised back of the lounger and the right arm rest to look down on his wife's face as her eyes rolled up and her neck arched back. He wanted to stay, but he wanted to do this more. He watched her face. Beautiful. And just for him. He watched her pleasure roll away and back, washing over her tightly; it made him want to be inside her, to feel... but he wasn't finished yet. And the finale was going to be explosive.

When Gillian's eyes started to flicker and her breathing evened out, Cal shifted back a little. With his knees digging into the metal bar of the lounger running beneath Gillian's thighs, a design flaw in his opinion, if he could feel it through the cushion there was something wrong, Cal pushed up the material of Gillian's pyjama top. Her eyes came open then, aware of him again, probably because he had moved. Cal dropped his head to her left breast, rubbing the wetness from his mouth and chin against her already taught nipple. Gillian dropped a hand to the back of his head with a sigh, but kept it there, limp. Cal shifted his mouth to lick the mess he had just made away again, then switched to the other side to do the same, turning his other cheek. He lingered there, until Gillian's stomach lifted to press against his belly and her pelvic bone rubbed against his. He stumbled a little then, feeling a desperation rush through him that was even harder to ignore.

Gillian's hand was on him next, gripping him tightly, small, soft words tumbling out of her mouth. Her skin was slick beneath Cal was he dropped his body against her, sliding back and forth slowly, electricity rippling between them. There were times when Gillian would beg. Or demand. No, direct. She would tell him when she couldn't stand it any longer, when she wanted him. But this time, it was Cal who couldn't wait a moment longer. He slid two fingers against her core, gathering up her wetness and slid his fingers around his own length, shivering delight erupting upwards, into his stomach, setting his heart on edge. He was rock hard, twitching, ready and she was ready and her eyes came open to look up at him again the expression on her face saying 'fuck me' even if the words didn't come out of her mouth. Or maybe they did and Cal didn't hear through the ache of needing his own release now; he was suddenly very narrow-minded.

He positioned and Gillian moved her leg further out to the side and he slid into her. His knees gave way as the striking heat surrounded him, soaring up his body to flash behind his eyes. Cal gripped the top of the lounger and his body quivered. As his elbow contracted he pulled the back of the lounger toward him and it released the catch at the bottom, which dropped the raised back of the seat flat. Suddenly. Gillian dropped sharply but she barely seemed to even register the change in angle. Her hands came up to Cal's ass, gripping, pulling him, shifting her legs up to his waist, deepening his thrust, drawing him in, giving little growls in her throat as she did so.

Cal fell against her, aiding her quest to get more of him and she gave another pleased moan. Cal had to take a moment to get a grip on himself. He felt like he couldn't breathe for a second, like he had forgotten. But the pounding of his groin wasn't going to let him get away with it for long. He could feel Gillian pulsing around him, already close to a second orgasm and oh god, he wanted one too. He was getting desperate. He pushed up on his elbow, away from her so he could move, finding purchase for his knees; even his shifting had his wife's grip on his ass get tighter. Cal moved back a little, sliding against her, dropping his head to her shoulder, cursing, because god, fucking god, he wasn't sure he could do this and hold it together.

And Gillian wouldn't let him go. When he didn't move, she did, pulling her hips back, then up, squeezing him from inside, turning her head from side to side, stroking her fingers up to the small of his back, then down again to grip his butt again. "Fuck," Cal choked against her neck. Her skin was damp and her hair hot against his face. His body quivered uncontrollably and he was afraid that was it.

"Go," Gillian whispered simply, not giving up as she worked him from beneath. "I'm so close Cal. So close," she murmured and that at least gave Cal a little bit of hope. He was pretty sure his orgasm had already started as he slid his hips away this time, just a little, then back. The second time he went further, and then further still with each stroke until he was pushing into her deep and hard, the lounger inching across the wood of the deck.

Gillian's movements also became more pronounced, so did the lines in her throat as Cal rode her hard. Mutters turned to groans and then she was crying out again. Cal felt his breath gripping at his throat and he burned with needing more, more air, more friction, more of his wife, just fucking more and more and more until he really started to fall apart, his hips stumbling out of rhythm.

"Yes!" Gillian cried. "Yes! Fucking yes!" She came violently and Cal really lost it, exploding into her suddenly without remorse, dropping his head sharply against her shoulder, holding still while she writhed all around him, fingernails in his flesh. Cal seized again and again, each convulsion shocking through his entire body, making his toes and feet and calves and thighs strain with wanting to pull away from the agonising strokes of deep within her. But from-the-waist-up wanted to stay. He liked the way her stomach pressed against his as she gulped air, the way she pressed her breasts against his chest intermittently, like she was floating up only to be sent back down by his presence above her. He liked the stroke of her hands at his waist, the hot spurts of her breath at his neck, the twitch of her throat. She was magnificent.

When her breath was more like a tickling flutter and the tension had left both of them; when she finally went still and Cal's heart rate had already slowed, the sweat on his skin cooled by now in patches where a breeze from the yard was reminding him that they were outside, Cal finally pulled back to see his wife's face. She looked up at him with a lazy smile. Her eyes were still dark, her cheeks were still red, and Cal could still see the dampness along her hairline. "Amazing," she murmured happily.

"New adjectives," Cal noted. Her usual was 'wow'.

Gillian's smile went a little wider, delighted. "Thought I'd mix it up."

"I like," Cal told her simply.

Gillian's hands smoothed up his back and her fingers slid over the ridges of his ribs. "Are you ok there?"

"Incredible."

"I can feel you trembling," she told him softly.

"That's not on purpose." Cal moved his hips back a little. The cooler air flooded in between their bodies now and Gillian shivered a little with a wince. Cal had a sudden thought that the lounger could not be comfortable for her either. It wasn't exactly designed for this; it wasn't designed for two. He could feel that metal bar beneath his knees again and knew there was another lurking further up, beneath Gillian's shoulders or upper back somewhere. And that little bugger was not relenting.

Gillian reached up with her arms further to hug him tighter. "Stay," she murmured against his neck, placing a delicate kiss. Cal attempted a half hug, difficult with her lying down and the fact that his skin was feeling sensitive all over. No bloody wonder he was having a difficult time getting a grip on himself, that had been a gargantuan effort. Gillian gave a content sigh against him, her breath hot and tickly against his throat.

"Are you all right?" He asked, about ready to suggest they relocate. When he could feel his legs properly again. The patio furniture was not the best scene for a post-coital cuddle. Of course the lounge was also a million miles away and so was their bedroom and where else was he going to suggest that was closer? The kitchen floor. Cal felt a grin threaten, memories of them doing it there too. Not this house. Not yet. And maybe not the best circumstances back then for a shag on the kitchen floor, but still, he did like the idea that sometimes, they just couldn't get enough of each other.

"Yes very," Gillian answered on a murmur, her grip on his neck tightening for a second before loosening off once more.

Cal pushed his elbows into a locked position yet again so he was leaning over her and Gillian let him go this time, rather than hang her weight from around his neck. "Great." Cal gave her a sudden grin. "You know what this means now don't you?"

"What?" Gillian asked innocently; slight confusion.

"I can cross the deck off my list." Cal's grin got bigger and Gillian gave a little 'hmph' that was meant to be light amused agreement, while in her head she said silently, '_Please don't leave me.'_


	140. Chapter 140

Gillian woke Cal gently with a hand on his shoulder.

"Which one?" Cal asked in a groaned mutter. He was facing away from her in bed and she had cuddled up behind him for some warmth. This morning it was chilly and Cal was always warm. But after she had repositioned behind him, she then stayed awake. For whatever reason. Maybe she thought it was time to wake up, or maybe she was aware that she was in a different place and so her brain was on alert for all the different sounds, the different feelings. She could tell it was getting lighter, even with her eyes closed, but she listened for birds and couldn't hear any and it suddenly occurred to her that the sun wasn't even up yet. Which meant it was really early. Out of habit, she rolled to check the time but of course, they hadn't unpacked hardly anything yesterday, just the essentials of the bathroom and kitchen and clothes. Today was Sunday and they'd spend all of the day putting the house in order. Gillian felt a thrill of excitement. She and Cal had bought a house together and had just moved in. This was the first morning waking up in their new place. She was obviously excited about it and she had an idea, so she turned back to her boyfriend to wake him. Boyfriend? Hm, no. Not boyfriend. Partner. Yes.

"Wake up," Gillian whispered.

"What?"

"Get up," Gillian instructed next.

"What for?" Cal turned slightly into her. When he made contact he rolled over completely enveloping her in his arms, crushing her under his body weight. Gillian thought about staying just like that, the pressure of him deeply comforting all over her, making her feel giddy with the feel of his body and safeness. Delightful, as Cal would say.

"Come outside," Gillian murmured. She managed a hand between them and pushed firmly against his shoulder, trying to get him to back off again. Mmmm and he was nice and warm too. Oh man, it was so tempting to just stay put.

"Outside?" Cal asked blearily.

Gillian opened her eyes and found their bedroom tinged with grey light through the curtains. Large furniture was in place but there were still boxes stacked all over the show. Gillian pushed harder and Cal shifted away a little, moving down to rest his head against her chest, at the top of her breast. He nuzzled his nose into her for a few seconds before settling heavily. Seriously, he was like a big teddy bear sometimes. When no one was looking.

"Cal," Gillian tried again. He gave her an 'mmm?' "Get up."

"What are we gettin' up for? Sunday. Sleep."

"I want to watch the sun come up."

Cal shifted right back and squinted at her like she had just said something incredibly shocking. He blinked rapidly as he stared. "You're insane."

"It's beautiful."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Come with me," Gillian requested when he moved over to his side of the bed and flopped down into his pillow so his face was buried. The hair at the back of his head was sticking up in two different angles and Gillian wondered how it had managed that. She combed her fingers through her own hair and picked the sleep from her eyes while she nudged him and prodded, trying to get him to move or even just respond.

"Go away," Cal grouched, his voice muffled.

Gillian got out of bed, the cool air of the bedroom making her skin goose flesh immediately. She went to her dresser and grabbed socks. Then hunted around a bit more for a sweatshirt. She found one of Cal's and slipped it on. She went out into the hallway and found the boxes marked 'linen' and tried to remember which one looked like the one she had packed the extra blankets into a week ago. She had to open three before she found them. She grabbed two and headed back to the bedroom. Cal was sitting up, looking confused and when she came into the room again he started talking immediately; he had been waiting for her to come back. "You're serious?"

"Yes."

"Bloody hell," he complained. He threw back the bed covers and grumbled something Gillian didn't catch. She dumped the blankets on top of a box and went to get him socks. She tossed them to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. They hit the side of his head and bounced off. He didn't even complain, just found them on the mattress and put them on his feet. In the meantime, Gillian found another of his jerseys from the box of his clothes and approached to give it to him, bunching up the material to put it over his head. Cal threaded his arms through. "This betta be one freakin' orgasmic sunrise."

Gillian pressed a kiss against his forehead, loving that he was coming with her even though he clearly didn't want to. She had a fleeting thought about limits of what he would and wouldn't do for her but focussed instead on making sure they got outside in time to see the sun coming up. She might actually get pissed off if they went through all of this and got out there only to find it was already up. She would rather stay in bed. When Cal was finished with his arms she took his head. "Come on," she coaxed. "I'll make sure there's an orgasm one way or the other this morning."

"Dirty," Cal noted and stood when she pulled on his arm. He shuffled along behind her, knocking into a box and cursing softly as she lead him to the door.

"Uh huh," Gillian agreed, grabbing the blankets as she went by. As they crept through the silent house the song of birds began. Which meant the sun was just about there. Gillian increased the pace a little and Cal gave another low grumble. They headed across the kitchen to the deck doors and Gillian gave Cal the blankets so she could reach up and undo the latch. A blast of late autumn air struck her body as she pushed the doors wide open. Yep she was going to need both blankets and her man-water bottle to keep her warm. When she turned back to take Cal's arm again he was staring at her behind. "Come on," Gillian coaxed again. She pulled Cal out onto the deck. He stumbled a little over the edge of the door, cursing again. '_Hot chocolate would have been good_,' Gillian thought suddenly. Too late for that. She could see streaks of colour in the sky.

"Aw it's cold," Cal complained.

"I know sweetie. Take a seat," she indicated the lounger and then made him shift his ass to the side so she could slip in next to him.

Cal immediately clung on to her like a limpet. "Keep me warm."

"Let me spread the blankets out," Gillian told him. "You big baby." But she was freezing cold too. Cal gave a huff but shifted to help her and once they were both completely covered with both blankets he snuggled in the cramped confines of the lounger, pulling Gillian against him tightly. Gillian savoured it for a moment, pressing her face against the edge of his jaw and neck. He smelt like sleep and like Cal and the desire to kiss him washed through her sharply. Later.

"Your nose is cold," Cal noted gently.

"So are my toes."

"Why are we doin' this?"  
>Gillian shifted her head back so it was above the line of blankets again and looked up at the sky. She couldn't have planned this any better. The sun must have been about to break over the edge of the earth because the dusting of clouds in the East were reflecting deep pinks and oranges. There were tinges of maroon and blood red and purples against the deep navy of the sky. Beautiful. Gillian felt Cal shift his head too to see and he went still, watching. The birds in the trees sung a chorus of welcome and soon they could see the fiery edge of the sun it's self over the tops of roofs and buildings in the far distance. The colour of the world around them changed instantaneously as the colour mix enriched.<p>

Cal shifted his arms around Gillian, absently finding more comfort. Gillian rested a hand against his chest but she couldn't feel his heart beat through his clothes. They watched as the sun came up further and both shifted their gazes to the sky, not wanting to damage their retina's. Gillian watched the colours reflecting off the clouds and in the surrounding atmosphere. The sky was blue because of the way the sun light moved through the dust up there. Something so simple and unimpressive created something so beautiful and magical.

"All right, I admit, this was nice," Cal spoke.

Gillian turned to him and gave him a smile. It _was_ nice. "Thank you for actually getting up." Because lesser husbands, oops that was a slip of the tongue. Partners. Lesser partners would have just ignored her and let her sit out there on her own.

"It was the promise of an orgasm that really tipped it."

Gillian gave a slight laugh.

"Though I do quite enjoy cuddlin' too."

"Mh hmm," Gillian agreed. She reached up to smooth her fingers against his scalp, combing through his hair, and he closed his eyes contentedly. He so indulged her. All the time. "What were you dreaming about this morning?" Gillian asked him softly.

Cal blinked his eyes open at her again. "I have no idea. Why?"

"When I woke you up you asked 'which one'?"

Cal gave a half shrug. "I just assume when someone's wakin' me up at the crack of 'mother-of-god' it's cos somethin's wrong."

Gillian gave a noncommittal 'hm'. That didn't seem like quite the right answer. He had said 'which one'; that was specific.

Cal shifted forward slightly to nuzzle his nose against her. It was cold on the skin of her neck but she let him. "Can we go in now? The arm of this chair is diggin' into my butt and there's a metal bar in my hip and I'm cold and need coffee." He pressed a kiss against her.

Gillian gave a slight amused laugh. She also had parts of the lounger digging into her flesh and bones and Cal was a solid mass pressing against her all the time, squishing her. "Yes," she agreed. "Will you make me breakfast?"

"Suppose. Will you make me come?"

"Yes," Gillian whispered feeling a spike in her stomach.

"Then, deal."


	141. Chapter 141

"Don't!" Owen cried out, trying to push his big brother away from him.

"I asked you boys to stop it!" Gillian added from the bench, raising her voice to be heard.

Lewis had an arm around Owen's neck and was kind of, swinging off him and Owen was trying to back up rapidly out of the hold but only succeeded in reaching the wall behind the pantry door. Both the boys banged into the dry wall and Gillian turned again to yell. She had a knife in her hand and the surge of anger well up so strongly that she had to stop, put the knife down, and then yell again. "Lewis! Leave him alone!"

Owen got a hand up and jammed it against Lewis's ribs. Lewis shifted away from the pain and Owen laughed. They were encouraging each other but Lewis was fourteen and so he had the advantage of being bigger. They were driving Gillian up the wall. And they were not listening to her. Not one little bit. So when Cal came home the boys were play fighting roughly on the edge of the kitchen and Gillian was at the bench fuming, asking them to leave each other the hell alone.

"Oi cut it out!" Cal immediately hollered from the door way, raising his voice so the tendons in his neck stood out. Owen cringed where he stood and Lewis slowly untangled himself from his nine year old brother. "Your mutha asked you to stop it and you bloody well listen to her," Cal went on. He did want to back his wife up but he also just felt like yelling at them, especially if they'd pissed Gillian off. "Now go away and clear the table." Which was covered in their homework.

"But dinner's not ready yet," Lewis pointed out.

"You do it because I asked you to do it ten minutes ago," Gillian grouched just as firmly as Cal was speaking to them.

"It's not my turn," Owen tried.

"You do it cos you were asked to do it," Cal told him sharply.

The boys slunk away and Cal turned to his wife. She had gone back to slicing chicken. The house went incredibly quiet. Cal approached the bench. "How was your day?" He asked in a calm tone of voice.

"Fine thank you," Gillian responded politely, but the edges of frustration were still there. "And yours?"

"Yeah it was all right till I came home to a madhouse."

"They've been sniping at each other all afternoon," Gillian complained. She finally looked over at Cal. He looked tired. He must have had a busy day. And she was sure coming home to Lewis and Owen carrying on didn't help. Cal gave her a long steady look before she broke eye contact. At the table she could hear the boys arguing over something. Again. She sighed and moved to wash her hands at the sink.

"One of those days then."

"Yes," Gillian agreed shortly. She loved her kids. She really did. And they were good boys. They really were. But sometimes they drove her insane and she wanted to knock their little heads together. Lewis turned his shoulder against Owen and started pushing, so the younger boy was squashed up against a chair. Then the chair started to tip and Owen whined while Lewis laughed.

"Big brutha is assertin' his authority," Cal noted.

"Owen niggled and niggled while they were doing their homework," Gillian explained. "So it's more like retribution."

"Hm," Cal noted. "I'd yell again but I have a betta idea."

Gillian wiped her hands and watched as he went to the pantry. He grabbed a handful of snack bars, miniature packets of potato chips and dried fruit. The noise level went up a notch as Owen started to shove back against his brother. Gillian felt her irritation level go up again in direct correlation. Cal came back towards her, cramming some of the food into his pocket and took her wrist. He led her to the kitchen doors and to the stairs before Gillian protested.

"I don't know about you," Cal started as they rounded the corner of the stairs and kept moving up to the second level. "But I've had a bitch of the day and I don't really feel like crackin' the whip at my kids just to get a bit of peace and quiet." They reached the top of the stairs and headed into their bedroom. Cal let go of Gillian to close and lock the door. "In my own bloody house," Cal finished. He nudged her towards the bed.

"I would have to agree with you on that one," Gillian went with it, following him, climbing on to the mattress. They sat, against the head of the bed, pillows at their backs.

"Wanna talk about your shitty day?"

"No."

"Great cos I don't wanna hear it," Cal threw an apple and pear snack bar at her. Gillian thought she should be offended but she didn't want to hear about his shitty day either. She didn't want to think about it. But oh wait...

"What if they kill each other down there?"

"I know a good place to dump a body."

"That's not funny. They could hurt each other."

"Well maybe. But I don't think Lew would actually kill Owen," Cal popped open his packet of potato chips.

"And what if he accidentally puts him through the windows?"

"Shhhhh," Cal said suddenly. Gillian was still as they listened for a moment. Interestingly, they couldn't hear whatever the boys were doing to each other.

"What?"

"Firstly, isn't it nice and quiet?"

Gillian didn't answer him.

"And secondly, no sounds of breakin' glass."

Gillian didn't respond to that either. While the peace and quiet was incredibly nice and soothing already, she was actually genuinely concerned. Plus she had to get dinner on otherwise the boys would be pestering her that they were starving to death.

"We'll give them fifteen minutes to wrestle and tire each otha out, as all boys their age need to do, and then we'll go down all refreshed from our little break and snack," he waved the potato chips. "And kick them in the bollocks," Cal finished. "Do you wanna yell or should I?"

"You're so much more effective at it."

"Then you should definitely give them that look you give."

"What look?" Gillian asked, and yes, she sounded a little defensive.

Cal turned to her. "Yeah that one. That's the one that shrinks my balls up and makes me feel cold inside."

Gillian ignored that too. Because Cal had a way of getting rather snarky when he was tired and grumpy. He didn't mean it to be hurtful. That was just his way. Gillian opened her snack bar, the smell of apples appealing.

"Besides if they actually break somethin', or each otha, that just gives me more ammo for tellin' them off for bein' stupid. Proof of the consequences is a fantastic parentin' tool."

That was actually true. A good 'see? I told you so!' sometimes really was effective when the boys weren't listening. So long as they didn't break each other down there.

"Crisp?" Cal asked, tilting the packet towards her. Gillian snatched the entire bag from him quickly and tossed the uneaten snack bar at his chest. It slid to his stomach and he picked it up wordlessly, pushing it to the top of the packaging and taking a bite.

"Do you think they'll even notice we're gone?" Gillian asked.

"I doubt it."

"Not until they get hungry right?"

"Right," Cal agreed lightly.

They ate silently for a moment and Gillian found herself starting to relax a little. Gillian finished the chips and leaned over her husband to take a bite of the snack bar, then snuggled against his arm. "Oh I see," he noted. "Makin' your move huh?" But he shifted his arm to put around her in an embrace.

"What can I say? You're irresistible."

Cal tossed the wrapper to the side and opened the little box of fruit. There were raisins, bits of apricots, apple, pineapple and pears; a dried fruit salad. He worked some of the fruit out, grasped between his fingers and offered it to Gillian. She guided his fingers into her mouth. "I hope your hands are clean," Gillian noted as she started chewing. He was so sweet. And so good at knowing just how to diffuse an escalating situation. For her at least, the boys, well she wasn't so sure. Or maybe what Cal had been telling her was that sometimes they just needed to get out all the pent up energy. When it came to boys she had to defer; she was female after all. And Cal was the same, sometimes he had so much energy he couldn't keep still.

"Filthy," Cal countered. "I jacked off in the car on the way home."

"I love you," Gillian said over the top of the end of his sentence, the thought already coming out her mouth as he started talking.

"For jackin' off in the car on the way home?" Cal asked surprised, around a mouthful of the fruit as well.

Gillian knew he was full of it with that comment. "There was actually a whole other thought process going on before you said that," Gillian answered dryly.

Cal chuckled. He offered Gillian some more fruit. She took it the same way as last time but there was no snide comment made. They finished the box and Cal threw it at the end of the bed, then shifted a leg so it was over hers and his body was turned towards her. "So why'd you not have a good day?"

"You want to know now?"

"Now that my blood suga is back to normal I'm all ears."

Gillian told him about a stubborn patient, a client at the Group who wouldn't return her calls, then Lewis and Owen constantly bitching at each other.

"They're at that age," Cal noted.

"Tell me they grow out of it," Gillian groaned.

"Yeah eventually," Cal sounded optimistic. "Or maybe not." Gillian groaned again. "No, I'm pretty sure they'll grow out of it. They're good kids." He paused. "Most of the time."

"Tell me about your day," Gillian requested. So Cal did and once he was done complaining about people hurting each other yet again they were silent on their bed. The boys hadn't come in and it must have been nearly half an hour.

"I thought they'd come in by now," Cal observed.

"Unless they really have killed each other down there," Gillian quipped but it did send a little shiver of concern through her.

"Suppose we should go down then and see what's goin' on."  
>"At the very least finish dinner," Gillian added. "I'm hungry."<p> 


	142. Chapter 142

If Cal had been dreaming, he suddenly couldn't remember what it had been about. He simply became aware. He tried to turn over, but his body was a complete dead weight and his arms wouldn't respond to the command from his brain. He thought he should feel panicked but he felt weird, sluggish, like his body was not his own. He struggled with a bit more effort and tried to pull his eyes open and then he felt hands on his shoulders, firm pressure down. "Cal it's ok," the voice said. Female, as far as Cal could tell but he seemed to be having a hard time hearing too. The voice was slightly garbled, like he was listening underwater.

"What?" He muttered. As in, what's going on, what am I doing there, where is here?

"You're in the hospital," the voice told him.

"Spital," Cal repeated numbly. He didn't know what that meant. He finally opened his eyes to find a blurry face over him, a big pink mass of body. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. What had he been doing? It felt like he had been asleep for an age.

"Just relax," the voice told him. "I'll get the doctor."

The person went away and Cal realised he was lying back against the bed. He could see snippets of clarity as he blinked and strained his eyes to focus. He could make out the thin blanket of his hospital bed, though he seemed hard pressed to name the colour of it. Some sort of green. Then the woman in pink was back and she had a man with her in blue. They both came over quickly and were talking to him. He blinked again, confused, they were using his name but he didn't know them.

"I'm Doctor Rockwell," the man spoke gently. "I've been taking care of you. Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital," Cal muttered. Apparently. But yes, it did look like he was in a hospital. Only, what was he doing here?

"Good," Rockwell noted. He shone a light in Cal's eyes, pulling back his lids. "And your name?"

"Cal." There was a pause and the doctor waited and Cal added: "Lightman."

"Great," the doctor responded. The nurse on the other side of the bed was checking monitors attached to Cal all over, she shifted him to reach properly, lifting his arm (which felt all tingly and weird when she did so), checking his chest, the cuff on his arm; he had an IV line in the crook of his elbow. Cal realised he had no clothes on and was surprised again; and maybe a little awkward. What the hell had happened to him?

"Can you tell me what the date is?"

Cal searched his mind but came up empty. He noticed it ached a little. Or the light was making his head hurt. And he was so very tired. He felt he could close his eyes again and sleep for several hours more. "I've no idea," he murmured. He closed his eyes again on a sigh, but thinking he should be afraid. Logically he should be afraid. Obviously something major had happened. He must be medicated, because this was just weird. Or dreaming. Dreaming would explain a lot. If he closed his eyes, relaxed and concentrated, he'd probably wake up.

"That's ok. You've been here for a while. But I want you to know you're doing just fine."

Oh well that was reassuring.

"What happened?" Cal asked softly.

The nurse was back, manhandling him again, moving his arms, slipping something cool over his skin. It took Cal a few long seconds to realise it was clothing. A shirt or something. Cal roved lazy eyes to check. Hospital gown.

"You had an accident and hit your head."

Oh so that was why his head was...

"Are you in any pain?"

"Uh," Cal thought. "My head."

"That's probably to be expected. I can give you something to help."

Cal was about to protest but he didn't react fast enough and soon he felt a new kind of haziness settle over him. Definitely a chemical induced kind of fogginess.

"Your wife," the doctor went on and Cal pried his eyes open again. He gave a frown. He hadn't been listening. What about his wife? But it was too hard to focus and so Cal gave into the need to rest his consciousness. He drifted away again, hearing sounds, voices and other things unfamiliar. He wanted to corner someone and ask more questions but it seemed he could just not wake himself up. He shifted to get a little more comfortable in the raised hospital bed and after a while he caved some more and drifted off. Why fight it? It was too hard.

**PJ**

It felt like Cal had been asleep for ages. It must be time to get up and start the day. He already felt like he'd been lazy. He must have slept in. Except when Cal tried to open his eyes and sit up he found that he couldn't move. He kind of twitched but his body wouldn't respond. He felt alarmed, or at least, his brain thought he should be alarmed, but his heart rate didn't spike, no adrenaline rushed through his system in a fear response. Cal concluded he must he drugged. It wasn't normal to feel like this. His limbs were heavy and even though he thought he heard someone talking he wasn't sure what they said, or if they were even talking to him.

It was like one of those dreams where he was half awake on a Saturday, imagining he'd got out of bed, got dressed, gone to the bathroom, only to stir awake a beat later to find that no, he was still in bed. His mind was clearly playing tricks on him. No one would be talking to him in the morning. Unless Emily was staying over. She was probably accusing him of being a sloth for not being up yet. And if she was up before he was on a weekend that was some impressive lying in on Cal's part. Unless it was during the week and he was going to be late for work. Foster would be on the phone next asking him if he was going to bother coming in today. He didn't like the tone she used. It wasn't entirely teasing. She just worried, she told him. Now that he was alone, she didn't add. But he was fine. No he wasn't fine. It was time to get out of bed. But something was wrong. Cal tried again, to get up, because this was getting ridiculous. He had to move. His hands felt heavy. Wait, no, that was something in his hand, something warm, tactile when he closed his hand against it; skin, another hand, fingers. Someone was holding his hand. That was nice.

Oh right. A hospital. He remembered now. Something about a doctor. A doctor had been talking to him. About how he'd hurt himself or something. And so Cal must be waking up from surgery or something? That would explain why he felt so weird. He could be having a bad reaction to the drugs. Yeah. That.

Cal relaxed and his eyes started to flutter and so he went with it, forcing them open, concentrating hard to make some muscle in his body react the way he wanted it to. His vision was less blurry this time around, but still, the light cut deep into his retinas. The hand was in his left, soft and delicate and he looked up into the eyes of a familiar face. The warm relief that washed through him was completely noted. Cal could feel his heart beat like it had just suddenly started up again. Gillian was sitting with him. She had come to see him. Time out of her busy day. He couldn't help but feel like he didn't warrant her attention, like he had done something, the something that landed him in there in the first place, that would make her mad at him. But she was still here and it made him feel good inside, that she had come to see him. Cal curled a slight smile and turned his head towards her a little, clearing his mouth from his pillow. "What are you doin' here Fosta?"

He didn't expect the shock. But that was what he saw. He was gathering his wits about him now and he saw the shock on her face. He frowned at her, unsure. "You all right?" He asked, positive he was missing something else. Had he done something to hurt her?

"I should be asking you that," Gillian blurted in response.

Cal turned back further against the bed, so he didn't have to strain his neck to see her easily. She looked different but he couldn't place how. The light was too bright and it was hurting his eyes and that made his head hurt. "Do me a fave-a?"

Gillian nodded and so he told her that the light was too bright for his eyes. Gillian volunteered to turn the blinds down and her hand slipped from his when she stood. He missed it already. He muttered his thanks. When she came back she kept her hand to herself and Cal actually half reached for her again before wondering what he was doing. The hand holding in the first place was a bit border-line for them, let alone him actually wanting it. What would his wife say? Wait, he wasn't still... He still had a wedding ring on. He could feel it. But Zoe had left. And she wasn't here now. Maybe he should take the plunge and finally take that ring off.

"How do you feel?" Gillian asked as she sat.

"All right," Cal responded in a low tone. "Dizzy. Kind of weird, you know?" Yes! Dizzy! That was a good way to describe how he felt and he was lying down.

"Yeah sure," Gillian agreed softly. "Do you want me to get the doctor?"

"What for?" Cal asked bluntly.

"You're not in pain or anything?"

"No. Well," Cal had to stop to think. And that made his head hurt a little bit more; a dull aching. "My head hurts a little. The doc said that was to be expected." Well, he must have if Cal was reciting it, though Cal wasn't quite sure he'd heard it. "Whateva that means," he added gruffly, because it was all so very confusing right now. It suddenly occurred to him that Gillian would tell him what happened. But when he looked over at her again what he said was: "You look terrible." She did. Tired. And worried. He must have made a right mess, whatever it was that he'd done. And still, she looked different in ways that couldn't have been just stress. But he wasn't sure.

"Thanks a lot," Gillian mumbled displeased.

"You been worryin' about me?" He teased.

She gave a very, very slight smile, full of tenderness and warmth. "Of course I have."

Cal felt his lips move into a smile and his chest swell with delight. What the hell? He shouldn't be feeling this way about his business partner. That was far too complicated to think about. But it was wrong. That was the wrong way to feel about her. He wasn't supposed to. He had a wife. Sort of. More importantly, she had a husband. He had to be good. He was going to blame that one on the drugs and on the bump to his head. He was probably concussed.

"Cal?"

Cal turned back to look at her, focussing again.

"Why did you call me Foster?"

Cal felt like laughing, but that kind of complex response was way beyond him right now. "That's your name isn't it?" He asked. "You don't like Fosta anymore?" What was her maiden name again? He'd forgotten. "Want me to call you Gillian from now on?"

"I was just wondering."

Cal didn't know what that meant but he certainly got the distinct impression he was missing something. "The doc said I was out for a while," he commented, determined now, trying to shake off that sleepy dreamy sensation. "How long was I here?"

Gillian hesitated, her eyes slipping away for a second. "A while."

"Yeah how long is a while exactly?" His tone was surprisingly sharp. Good. Time to wrestle back control of himself. The drugs must be wearing off.

"Over a month."

His heart skipped a beat. Finally, a normal reaction from it. "Bloody hell," he muttered, closing his eyes and raising his left hand to them; cooperation! At last! He rubbed his eyes gently and then gave a little frown. He pulled his hand away to study his wedding ring. Oh yeah, his wife. Zoe. That was what he had been thinking about before; what he had meant to ask about.

"Do you know what happened?" Gillian asked him directly.

"Some sort of accident," Cal responded absently. "I dunno. The docta was vague on those details. Is Zoe on her way here?"

"Zoe?" Gillian croaked. Cal looked over at her surprised again. What was the big deal about Zoe? She might have left him but they were still talking. They weren't really working things out but she wasn't blacklisted. Oh god. What if? What if it'd been a car accident and Zoe was there with him... Cal was about to ask about Emily too, a sickening feeling in his stomach, when there was a cry from the door. Cal turned his head sharply to see a little boy with brown hair and blue eyes rush across the room to crash into Gillian's legs where she sat.

'_Are you fuckin' kiddin' me_?' Cal thought as he watched Gillian pull him to her lap while he said hello to her. '_Fosta had a kid?_' The boy called her 'Mum'.

Gillian looked over at Cal desperately; he could see her quickly trying to form an explanation. There was obviously so much more she needed to tell him. A month in the hospital? No way. It had to be much longer than that. The kid was older. Unless. She and Alec had finally adopted?

"Dad!" The boy immediately turned and reached out for the bed where he lay.

Cal felt his throat go dry, his heart spike in shock and a sweat pop out along the front of his chest. Dad. No. That wasn't right. No way that was right. He must not be in Kansas anymore.


	143. Chapter 143

Cal snuck through his son's dark bedroom to the bunk beds and gave Owen a slight nudge on the top mattress. The boy stirred and half sat. "We're home," Cal whispered to him. Owen gave a grunt, leaned forward groggily to put an arm around his father. Cal gave him a hug and a kiss, then whispered for him to go back to sleep.

"Mum."

"Yep Mum's comin' in," Cal told him, giving his leg a final pat to indicate he was leaving the room and went out quietly. Gillian was paying the babysitter and walking her out. But as Cal came into the hall outside of Owen's room, she came up the stairs.

"Is Owen asleep?"

"Pretty much but he wants to say goodnight."

"Ok," Gillian whispered. She moved past him and Cal went to their bedroom to start undressing. He took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, hanging both in the wardrobe, before kicking off his shoes and lining them up in place on the floor. When he turned Gillian was closing their bedroom door. "He's so cute; he asked me if it was time to get up."

Cal gave a smile and untucked his shirt. Gillian crossed to the ward robe and slipped off her shoes. "Oh that's so much better," she groaned.

"So much torture and yet they look so damn good," Cal noted.

"Exactly," Gillian agreed.

Cal moved towards her, giving her hips a squeeze and her lips a quick kiss before gently moving her aside so he could get by. Cal undid his shirt and laid it over the end of the bed, slipping out of his trousers next, ditching his socks and pulling on a t-shirt. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth and Gillian joined him in a tank top and underwear to do the same. Gillian slipped a hand around his waist as they stood there together, brushing in unison, until Cal bent to rinse his mouth out.

They got into bed and put the light out and met in the middle. The sheets were cold for a moment and Cal clung on to Gillian because she was warm. Except her feet, which she tried to put against his calves to warm up. "Ugh you always do this," Cal complained.

Gillian gave a slight chuckle but she left him alone and they settled. It was quiet. So quiet Cal could hear the hum coming from the electrical alarm clock. Gillian snuggled up against his arm, her breath at his neck. "Do you remember when we used to have sex?"

Cal gave a laugh of surprise. "Those were some good times."

"Yeah," Gillian agreed on a sigh.

"Do you wanna have sex?" Cal asked, lifting his head from the pillow slightly, as if he moved he could see her face. He couldn't. Not in the dark.

"I'm a bit tired."

"Me too," Cal agreed and lowered his head again. Sex was pretty much an extreme luxury at this point in their lives. It was almost more effort than it was worth. Almost.

At thirteen, Owen was starting to sleep later in the mornings, which meant, the next day, Cal and Gillian were up before him. They had a leisurely breakfast, toast and coffee, flicking through the newspaper, going over a few notes of interest from the mayor's charity ball the night before. It was more a habit than a networking opportunity these days and Gillian liked to keep tabs on who was prominent in the city. She also said it didn't hurt to be on the good side of the mayor and the police commissioner. Cal took her word for it. He liked the mischief.

As the sun cleared the house next door and started to flood their living room with warm light Owen emerged. His blonde hair was sticking up in the back and he picked at his eye as he slouched into the room. Gillian was on her way to the bathroom and gave him a quick hug hello. Cal heard them talking and turned his head to also greet his son. "Hey Dad," Owen responded lazily. He headed slowly around the couch and sat on his father's right, shifting his arm so he could tuck up underneath it.

"Did you have a good sleep Batman?"

"Ten four Robin," came the soft response. "Did you have fun last night?"

"Yep," Cal answered. The smaller body was warm against his side and he was reminded of Lewis at the same age, doing the same thing. A teenager, but still not so big he couldn't get a cuddle out of his old man. "We had a yummy meal and then lots of dessert."

Owen gave a 'hmph'.

Cal shifted down the couch further so he was more slouched and much more comfortable with the sun no longer in his eyes. Owen adjusted himself against his body accordingly. Cal waited quietly for Owen to wake up more. Gillian came back from the bathroom, still in her pyjamas and bare feet; she had pulled on trousers before heading downstairs. "Someone stole my seat," she complained lightly, giving Owen's hair a brush as she went by, to Cal's other side. He opened his arm to let her sit against his side as well.

"Do you want toast Wen?" Gillian asked him.

"Sure," Owen agreed.

Gillian got up again. "I'll make you something."

"Aw now isn't that nice?" Cal noted. "Mum's gonna make you breakfast. She doesn't make me breakfast."

"I can hear you," Gillian commented from somewhere across the room.

"Spoilt you are," Cal went on, talking to Owen.

"What time did you get home last night?" Owen asked more clearly this time. He even raised his head to look his father in the eye.

"It was late."

"It was weird being the only one going to bed."

"What do you mean?"

"Normally Lewis also goes to bed if you go out."

That was because if Cal and Gillian went out, Lewis was usually the one babysitting his younger brother and when it was Owen's bed time Lewis would go to his room. Not necessarily to sleep. But with Lewis gone, they'd had to pay someone to sit with Owen and so Cal figured that what he was really was saying, was that it was weird without Lewis there.

"Yeah fair point," Cal conceded. It was taking them all a bit of adjusting with Lewis gone. At least they had routines to get through; it would have been worse in summer, noticing how vacant the house felt without him around. As it was, their home seemed quieter and emptier than usual. "Did you think of a name for your robot?"

"I'm going to call him 'Tin Man' but I'm going to ask Lewis first if he likes that name."

"Tin man huh?" Cal gave an amused smile.

"Cos his favourite movie is The Wizard of Oz," Owen explained. Like that needed any explaining.

"Sounds like a good fit."

Owen nodded. "Dad, what do you think I can do at college?"

"Anythin' you want luv."

"I could make robots like Lewis?"

"Sure yeah you could," Cal hedged. Not that Lewis had gone to college to make robots. But knowing Lewis and half a chance, he probably would. "But you could do somethin' else." Something different. Owen didn't have to follow in his big brother's footsteps entirely.

"Hm," Owen mused.

"What's somethin' you like to do?"

"I like playing xbox."

"Yeah," Cal agreed drolly. No shit. Cal had threatened on occasion to rip the plug from the wall if the boys didn't get off it _right now_.

"Will you play later with me Dad?"

"Sure. Late-a."

"Do they have professional xbox players?"

"They sure do," Cal confirmed. "But I'm pretty sure you can't go to college and get a degree in that. But you know what would be coola and much betta for you, so you don't turn into a complete couch potato with sprouts growin' out your head?"

"What?" Owen asked amused.

"You could _design_ xbox games."

"Oh now that would be cool," Owen mused. "You can do a degree in that?"

"You can study computa graphic design," Cal countered. "But I'm not sure exactly. We could look into that sometime."

"Yeah that'd be cool," Owen noted. "I'm hungry," he announced and pushed away from his father. He got to his feet and wandered away again.

"Bye," Cal uttered under his breath. He heard a phone chime in the background and went back to his paper. A moment later his phone was deposited on his shoulder. It was accompanied by a slight self-amused laugh and slid down into the gap between his back and the couch. Cal had to reach around for it awkwardly and got annoyed when the small device evaded his hand. '_Thanks a lot Owen_.'

Cal finally got a hold of it and brought it up to his face to see there was a text message. From Lewis. Cal opened it.

**GOOD MORNING. FREE FOR A CHAT?**

Cal didn't even text him back, just hit 'dial'.


	144. Chapter 144

"Um Mum?" Lewis called over his shoulder. "What do I do if it's lumpy?" He had to use both hands to make a quick 'lump' sign.

Gillian came over to where he was standing at the stove making a cheese sauce. He was in the process of adding the milk to the roux (flour and butter) but it looked like the sauce had gotten too hot at the bottom and started to thicken unevenly. "Get a whisk," Gillian responded. She didn't know the sign for 'whisk' so quickly finger-spelled it; 'W', 'S', 'K'. She took the wooden spatula from his hand as he turned away and took the sauce off the heat for a moment, while she kept it moving so it wouldn't catch or get worse. Lewis came back with a whisk and Gillian stirred the sauce quickly to get out all the lumps while Lewis watched her.

"Phew," he noted.

Gillian gave him the whisk back and put the pot back on the heat. "Stick with that just in case." Lewis took the implement from her and went back to concentrating on his sauce. Gillian was teaching Lewis a few more complex meals now he was older. Owen was pretty much still on his basic prep: cutting vegetables and meats, but Lewis was moving on to sauces and 'winging' it; using whatever was in the cupboard or fridge to put a decent meal together.

Tonight it was pasta bake.

Once Lewis was finished with his sauce, and had seasoned it, he poured it over the top of the pasta they had already cooked and mixed with a Mediterranean pre-made sauce from a jar. Ok, slight cheating there. But they had also cooked up some chicken thighs and diced them up as well. On top went cheese, dried sage and ground paprika. Then it went into the oven to cook; well, to let the cheese melt and colour up. So they moved on to making a salad, working side by side at the bench. Gillian washed the lettuce while Lewis cut tomatoes and cucumber.

"Mum?"

"Yeah?" Gillian responded. She thought about what kind of dressings they had in the fridge. She liked a mayonnaise or yoghurt based one but Cal preferred a lighter, sharper vinaigrette.

"Mum, Hollie and I thought she was pregnant a few weeks ago."

Gillian froze out of shock, but not because she was surprised by the news, but because this was when Lewis was going to bring it up? No warning. Just blurting it out there. Reminded her of someone else she knew. Gillian noted Lewis had stopped working and so she turned to look up at him. The expression on his face was worry and the knife in his hand was poised in the air for a downward strike against a tomato he was no longer looking at.

"She's not," Lewis added belatedly while Gillian thought about what she was going to say. How was she going to play it? Pretend she didn't know a thing and act over the top? Pretend she didn't know and pay it cool? Or just tell him she knew all along?

"It was a false alarm," Lewis went on, his voice getting softer with insecurity.

Gillian gave a slight frown. She turned off the tap, shook out the last of the lettuce and dumped it in the salad bowl. She wiped her hands on a towel and turned to her son, looking up at him again, holding his gaze. "I know," she tapped her forehead gently. "Your Dad told me."

"Oh," Lewis noted quietly and his eyes fell down a little like he was ashamed. Gillian reached out to put a hand on his arm. He wasn't a little kid anymore. He was taller than her and his arms were strong and muscled like a man. And they were hairy.

"He told me to warn me," she tapped the back of her left hand. "So that I wouldn't completely freak out on you." She used 'afraid', meaning 'scare'.

"Is this you freaking out?" Lewis asked but he didn't sound like he was teasing.

Gillian gave him a slight eye roll. "I'm really glad you told me yourself." She used 'happy' and 'talk'.

"Dad made me." He used 'force'.

"Good."

Lewis raised a shoulder slightly like he didn't agree. Maybe one day he would understand. Like when he was a father himself. Not now, thank god, but later. Maybe one day.

"Why did you think Hollie was pregnant?" Gillian made 'wh?' hands.

Lewis looked a little startled. The question had not been asked before. "Her period was late and she said she felt different."

Felt different? Teenagers.

Gillian nodded. Maybe she shouldn't judge. She thought she was pregnant based on much less. A few times actually. And she had been wrong on just about every one of those occasions. "You know Lew, I'm really proud of the way you handled it." She made an 'A' hand and ran it, the thumb towards her chest, from her stomach to her collarbone.

Lewis watched her for a moment. "Thanks."

"I mean that." Gillian thought of Cal. Fifteen year old Cal who had all kinds of things going on his life that made him act in ways that made her cringe when she thought about them. She couldn't blame him but that didn't mean she didn't find them... abhorable.

"So Dad told you all of it?"

"Yes," Gillian admitted. Lewis nodded but he no longer seemed annoyed, just accepting. "And how are things with Hollie now?" Gillian went on.

"A little weird to be honest." He used 'strange'.

"Weird how?" Gillian pushed. 'Strange' was a 'C' hand starting upright, then moving over to the right so it was on it's side.

Lewis went back to his tomato. "Just, I don't know. There's a tension underneath now. When we're together it's not as easy as it used to be."

"Does that come from you or her?"

Lewis looked over at her, glanced at her hands. He went back to another tomato. "I would have said Hollie but I guess it's from me too." He was quiet for a moment, but thoughtful, and after another few seconds he went on. "We're a lot less... uh... physical now. I guess it's both on our minds... Consequences."

"That won't last," Gillian responded. Lewis looked over at her again, inviting an explanation. "Not having sex," she added bluntly, pressing an 'X' hand shape under her eye. "You'll get over that pretty quickly." Lewis gave a slightly embarrassed but resigned smile and looked away again. "You were talking a while ago about putting your relationship on hold when you go to college?" She made a 'stop' gesture.

Lewis gave her another side-long glance. He seemed almost wary but he did give a nod. Yes she was prying, or at least trying to add a little extra coaching to the situation that Cal had already handled. Sort of handled. She did care, even if she didn't have to lecture him about safe sex etc because Cal had already done that and warned her about the pregnancy scare. But she didn't want to be completely left out.

"Did you make a decision about that?"

"I dunno. It made more sense back then to call a break, whereas now it if I did it, it would look like I'm trying to distance myself from her cos of the pregnancy thing."

Oh he was good. And it was so impressive.

Gillian's first reaction was to go 'well aren't you?' but that was just an echo of her mother's voice, looking for the negative in someone, and it was so much worse to think that when she was talking about her son, her son who had already proven he was a thoughtful and sensitive man. "So you haven't talked to Hollie about it at all?" She twirled a finger by her mouth.

Lewis shook his head. He finished with his tomatoes. "What else?" He gestured towards the salad. Gillian went to the fridge. She found sun dried tomatoes, pumpkin seeds and beetroot. She also found a little nub of feta cheese but it smelt really strong so she simply put it in the trash. They went back to their posts while Lewis cut the sun dried tomatoes smaller and Gillian sprinkled the seeds in the bowl.

"What does your first instinct tell you Lew? Before the pregnancy scare happened, what were you leaning towards?"

Lewis thought for a moment, scooping up the shrivelled up tomatoes to add to the salad. Then he looked over at his mother. "I was going to call it off. Not cos I don't love her or want to be with her, but just because I think, I think we should go to college and start fresh. Both of us. I don't want it to be complicated."

Gillian nodded. "That sounds good."

"You think I should still do that? Tell Hollie that?"

"Hm," Gillian thought for a moment herself. She wanted so very badly to hate Hollie. Something about entrapment and stupid little bitch. But Hollie was sweet and Lewis was smart and the situation wasn't like that at all. So she shut those thoughts down too and suddenly got an inkling into what Cal talked about when he said he constantly fought to be better, to do the right thing, to say the right thing. "I think. I think it depends on how your relationship is with Hollie." 'Relationship' was interlocking the thumb and fingers of the left and right hand, like rings joined together, and moving them from side to side.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, if you explained it to Hollie how you explained it to me, would she understand what you were meaning? Or would she get upset and not understand you at all?" She flicked her finger like a light-bulb going on.

Lewis considered that for a moment. "How is that you can say the words but people don't get you at all? And then some people do?"

"They speak the same language." She drew her index fingers from in front of her out to the side, and waved them a little as she did so, like she had quickly written a length of parchment.

"Aren't we all speaking the same language?" He gave a lopsided grin, his hands giving an upward gesture at the end, like he was throwing something up into the air. It wasn't a sign, just a gesture. What he meant was, everyone spoke one language, but in their house, they spoke two.

Gillian smiled. "Communication is so much more complex than that Lew. It's not always about saying the right thing, but whether someone is willing to listen to you and understand what you're trying to say, even if you use the wrong words."

"Like you and Dad?"

"Yeah like me and Dad," Gillian agreed. They were silent again as they finished with the salad. Gillian figured they had about fifteen minutes left before the pasta would be ready. Gillian asked again, if Lewis felt he could talk to Hollie in a candid way, and have an open conversation about their future.

"I'm not really sure," Lewis admitted. "I think it will be tough. But, surely she must be thinking about it by now? What's going to happen when we go to college?"

Gillian nodded it was a possibility because college was just around the corner and Hollie wasn't stupid. "Then I guess you'll just have to go for it."

"Yeah," Lewis agreed softly. He rinsed the knife under the tap and set it aside. Then he wiped down his chopping board while Gillian put the extra ingredients back into the fridge. When she turned, Lewis said he'd go and get Owen for dinner. Gillian agreed. Then Lewis stepped up to her and gave her a hug. "Thanks Mum." He planted a kiss on her cheek and stepped away while Gillian smiled.


	145. Chapter 145

AN: M rated chapter

**PJ**

"I am happy," Gillian noted with a smile. "Are you happy?"

"Yep," Cal agreed easily. The burn in his groin was starting to get distracting. But that wasn't what she meant. She meant happy feelings-wise. And he was. But standing next to her happiness made him feel small and a bit like he was in a shadow. "Gill," he murmured, a warning. "I."

"Shh," Gillian told him, kissing him deeply this time. They sunk lower into the water. Cal gave a sudden surge with his feet to keep them from submerging.

"This isn't workin'," Cal complained, which had been his original grievance if she had let him voice it. He felt a surge of desperation as Gillian looked around, knowing she was about to move away from him. He didn't want her gone.

"Over there," she directed, moving her hand to gesture behind her. There was a small beach on the other side of the giant rock they had jumped off. It took a while to get momentum going through the water but they started to swim toward. Together. By the time Cal felt solid ground under his foot, soft silt, his heart was pounding and he was a little breathless. Or was that because of Gillian? He grabbed her around the hips before she could get too far away from him, dislodging her feet, tangling her legs in his. She lost her balance but he controlled her fall to the shallow water. She looked up at him, her gaze already glassy and her breath pronounced.

Cal lowered himself over her, feeling the sharp edge of her knee in his hip until she moved it. His fingers sunk into the soft white sand by her shoulder as he pressed his stomach against hers. She shifted beneath of him and her arms dropped to his waist as Cal let his mouth meet hers. He slid his tongue against hers and she let him in. He teased her mouth slowly and deeply, noting her hands were distracted enough to go still against his waist, simply hanging on. He shifted to her neck, licking the freshwater from her skin. There was the slight bitter chemical tang of coconut sunscreen; it smelt great but tasted like shit.

Cal shifted his right hand, the one that wasn't covered in sand, between their bodies, lower, over her stomach, pulling his hips back a little to make more room. He found himself, hard, and shifted his hips to the side so he could get to her underwear. Gillian's hands went into his hair, tugging his mouth down to kiss him again. Then she gave a sudden little groan and shifted her hips. Cal felt the edge of lace and quickly slid his fingers against her. Gillian groaned louder and Cal almost told her to be quieter. But he remembered they were outside. And alone. On a deserted island. It was just them.

Oh screw that then.

Cal pulled away from Gillian and yoinked her underwear away. Gillian's eyes went wider in surprise but she went for the change in pace. She scratched her nails down his back, then shifted around his arm to his chest, pinching both his nipples between the pads of her fingers. Cal gave a little growl and pushed a finger inside her, making her hips buck up towards him. Cal curled his finger up and she gave a whimper. "Oh wow."

She was hot. Fiery hot, compared to the coolness of the water. They were still partly underwater too and it was quite a contrast. Cal shifted his wrist to press his thumb and slipped another finger inside her, while he lowered his mouth to her breast. "Cal," Gillian moaned. He had to wiggle his way in there though, around her bra, which didn't give him an inch of room. Perhaps it was because the material was saturated from their swim. Cal could feel the sun beating down on his back, already hot after the quick rain shower, which had lead to all this naughtiness in the first place. He pictured her again, spinning around in the rain in nothing but her underwear. This honeymoon was already a lot more fun than the last one he had been on.

Cal brought Gillian to the edge, to the point where her eyes were closed and her breath was gasped and she waited, waited. Gillian teased him right to the edge too, so when he finally couldn't stand it any longer it really didn't take them much to come together and climax simultaneously, their cries and grunts of delight dancing across the expanse of the meadow, the splash of water behind them repelling the vibrations on that side.

"Mm wow," Gillian noted as she regained her senses.

Cal slipped away from her and dropped to the sand against her side. "You say that every time."

"That's because every time warrants such enthusiasm," Gillian noted.

Cal turned his head to see her. She still had her eyes closed. "You all right ova there?"

"Uh huh."

Cal sat up. "I've lost my undawear."

Gillian's eyes opened abruptly. "Really?"

"Yeah," Cal felt around in the water by his ankles and came up empty. He only managed to stir up the silt. He wasn't sure when they'd even been discarded.

"Lucky no one's around to see huh?" Gillian teased sitting up beside him.

"Lucky I'm not shy," Cal gave her a salacious grin and stood. He rushed forward a few more feet and dived under the water again, feeling it cool his skin delightfully, instantly. When he surfaced again he turned to the beach to see Gillian sitting there, watching him. She had redressed herself, as much was possible with only underwear. "Are you comin' in?"

Gillian raised a hand and curled her finger at him. "Come here," she countered.

Cal dipped beneath the surface of the water and swam forward. He surfaced again and breast stroked toward her. When he reached her, Cal realised she had snuck further down into the water. She put out her arms and Cal swam in closer; her hands dropped to his butt and gave a squeeze. He smiled and Gillian grinned again; the water setting off her eyes; glittering sparkles. "Back to reality soon."

"No," Cal murmured. "Don't ruin it."

Gillian gave him a soft kiss. "Ok. I'll change the subject. Feed me I'm starving."

"Right," Cal agreed. He set his feet on the silted bottom and walked them out of the water. As it got shallower Gillian wrapped her legs around his waist. It was hard to stand, with her weight around him, but he managed it and walked up the short beach, also difficult with a body clinging to him. But once he was on the grass again he was fine. He walked them over to the tree, where their clothes were in saturated heaps and the backpack was damp.

Cal wrung the water out of his shorts and put them on still wet while Gillian laughed at him and teased him about the water making him wrinkly. Cal shot her a dirty look but she scampered off to lay her clothes and shoes out on the rock to dry; Cal threw his t-shirt in her general vicinity and she lay it out too. By the time they got back to their blanket it was only slightly damp. Gillian spread out the food the resort had packed for them; sandwiches and other finger foods, fruit and bottled water. They ate and basked in the sun and Gillian sat closer to rub more sun block onto Cal's exposed skin while he tried to pack away the empty food containers.

"Sit still," Gillian complained.

"Make me," Cal retorted.

Gillian slipped her fingers around the back of Cal's necking, smoothing the lotion into his skin. "I'll show you my tits," she whispered against his ear.

Cal dropped the bottle of water he had been screwing the lid back on to. It spilt in his lap and over Gillian's thigh and she laughed as she drew back. There was a damp patch right over Cal's groin. "Now I look like I pissed myself."

"Or got over excited," Gillian countered.

Cal looked up and gave her a grin. "Can't say I've been accused of that before."

Gillian smirked and turned her back, holding the sun block bottle over her shoulder. Cal finished with the water and took the bottle of lotion from her hand. He started with her lower back, smoothing white over her bronzed skin, then moved higher, slipping his fingers beneath her bra straps. Gillian slathered her arms and legs while Cal started on her shoulders. He got more lotion and smoothed his fingers over her small muscles. He curved into the shape of her neck firmly and Gillian went still. "That feels really great," she told him softly.

Cal leaned down to take her ear between his teeth and she gave a little jolt. She brought up a hand to his face, cupping his jaw, smoothing past his ear to curl at the back of his head. She turned, tugging her own ear of this grip and pushing his head forward a bit to meet her mouth. The kiss was slow and delicious and it sent heat to Cal's stomach; longing and contentment.

Cal broke from his wife's mouth to crawl around her. She opened her legs and pulled him in against him, meeting his mouth again for another warm kiss. Gillian slowly lowered them backwards to the blanket and smoothed a foot around Cal's calf, shifting her hips until they were aligned with his. She wrapped her arms around the back of his shoulders and kissed him again, slowly exploring. Cal gave a little pleased hum and dropped his hips lower against hers, so she had more of his weight than he did.

Gillian was still in her underwear so Cal smoothed a hand up behind her back to unhook her bra. It was a tight fit, and the ground had zero yield on it. Gillian laughed a little when he struggled. "Amateur," she murmured against his jaw and lifted her shoulders to give him more room. He removed her bra, sliding the straps along her arms and tossing it to the side. He lowered his head to her neck, brushing his chest against her nipples and kissing a trail down her greasy sun-blocked skin; smelt great, tasted disgusting. But her breast wasn't covered in that crap and Cal spent happy minutes sucking and licking and biting, sharing out the attention until Gillian gave a huff and bucked her hips against him. Before he could move she clawed her hands over his back to the front of his shoulders and pushed him away a little. She pressed kisses against his chest, brushing her fingernails against his nipples, until Cal caught her hands and kissed her mouth deeply.

With Gillian distracted Cal shifted further down her legs, pulling at her underwear once again. Gillian lifted her bum from the blanket to help him and Cal tossed the material to the side as well. He pushed her back by the shoulder so she was on her elbows, then curled a hand into the back of her right knee, massaging softly, tickling with his fingertips. Cal knew somewhere else that didn't taste like sun block. He shifted back on his knees and slid his left hand under her butt to lift it a little further from the ground. Gillian shifted her left leg to his shoulder and lay back; Cal could hear her panting softly in anticipation.

And then she let rip a moan as he made contact. Cal sensed the blanket bunching next to her hips, where her hands had been resting a moment before. As Cal built her higher, her fingers slid into his hair, and then higher still and they were gone again. Gillian started to shift and squirm. Her thighs tried to close around him and her hips left the blanket. Cal raised a hand to push her back, getting his shoulder in there as a permanent wedge, and when her hands came back, tugging his hair, grasping and clawing, he used his hand to pull her fingers away. When she started to fall he withdrew his mouth and replaced it with his fingers, feeling the way she fluttered against them, making him grow harder than he already was, getting painful against his shorts. He balanced his body weight precariously, one hand against her, his left undoing the button and fly to let himself go free, watching as she writhed, her face contorted beautifully, her nipples taught against her chest.

Then he moving up her again quickly, wanting to be inside her to feel her pleasure before he missed it. Gillian opened her eyes as he settled above her, hooking her arms around his neck and drawing him in for a kiss. When Cal pushed against her she startled and tipped her hips back and froze and Cal was surprised and then he could feel it, like the low rumble of an earthquake in the distance, unsure at first, then it raced forwards and Gillian trembled again with another, weaker this time, but still detectable, orgasm. "Oh!" She called out, her eyes closing again and shifting her hips up into him, her arms wrapping tighter against him, her head coming up to hook her chin over his shoulder.

Cal held her as she came again, rocking his hips slowly, sliding in and out gently; she felt amazing and he was having a hard time keeping it together. He hadn't quite finished. When Gillian started to come down again Cal lowered her back to the blanket, leaning over her again to tease her ear as he went a little deeper this time. Gillian moved her legs up, to his waist, as high as she could reach, which deepened the angle, just how Cal liked it, and hooked her ankles behind his back. She brought her arms up, rubbing his left ear with her right hand, using her left to brush her palm against his nipple. Then she looked up at him and her eyes were striking. Cal lowered his head to kiss her and she uttered a quick 'yes' just before their lips met.

Gillian sucked on his bottom lip and nipped at his tongue. Cal started to move a little faster and her legs dislodged but she pushed back with her hips and shifted her hands to grip his ass tightly, urging him on. Cal swallowed and found purchase for his toes in the grass. "Gillian," he whispered against her ear. "I love you."

"I love you too," Gillian murmured back and then she pretty much lost it. She arched her head back, extending her neck to a kissable length and Cal descended on it, feeling her quivering all around him, hearing the huffs of breath from her mouth as pleasure washed over her again. And then she started squeezing at him from inside and Cal fought for control for as long as possible, so he could make their love-making last for as long as possible, and then he caved, thrusting into her hard in succession until he also exploded. His elbows unlocked, dropping him to her in a sweaty shaking mess. She didn't seem to care though, because instead of shoving him off her in disgust, she held him tighter, kissing his forehead tenderly.

When Cal came to Gillian was cradling his head against her chest and he was half lying on her, half to the side on the blanket. He looked up at her and she met his eye with a smile. "Can I say it this time?"

"Be my guest."

"Bloody wow," Cal muttered. He shifted to kiss her mouth and she was hot and exciting but he was completely spent. Cal shifted over to be able to reach better; he wanted more. More and more of her. He wondered if he'd ever get bored.

Gillian smoothed a hand over the back of his shoulder blade. "Oh Cal you're back."

"What?" He turned is head, expecting the worse. Wouldn't be the first time she'd drawn blood.

"You're going to get sunburnt," Gillian said instead. Cal couldn't see any redness but he hardly got the chance to look. Gillian shoved him back and turned, grabbing a hand full of the picnic blanket with her. That was a blanket on loan from the resort and they had probably made a right mess all over it just now. Gillian pulled the blanket out from beneath her until it reached right over Cal and covered them both completely like a cocoon. "Now it's just you and me in the world," she whispered.

Cal quite liked the idea of that. He pulled her closer so she was lying over him completely and pushed the hair out of her face; it was tickling him. He kissed randomly, feeling a nose and then a chin and then a giggle. Cal gave her a squeeze in the dimness of their little cave. He closed his eyes and imagined they were anywhere in the world. And what came to him was their bed at home; their safe haven.

"I wonda what the time is."

"No," Gillian reprimanded. "Don't ruin it."

"You want the boat people to come back and see us like this? You've got no clothes on."

Gillian gave a 'hmph'. As Cal's heart rate came down again he was aware of how sticky they were, sweat mingling with greasy sun block and making love. Cal shifted to sit them up, Gillian almost a dead weight against his chest. He was a lot stronger than he thought himself to be, because even though she didn't help and protested and clung on to him, snuggling her face into his neck, he still managed it. "One more swim," Cal murmured. "Then we should go." Gillian gave a displeased grunt. But she slid to the side and let the blanket fall away. Cal stood and stepped out of his shorts, heading back for the water. Gillian called something rude at his retreating back so Cal gave his ass a little shake as he waded into the water. His foot trod on what felt like material, so he stooped to pick it up. It was his underwear. Cal pulled them from the water and wrung the excess out, checking there was no unfortunate collection of sand in there either.

"That's impressive luck," Gillian noted, completely naked, from the water's edge. Cal eyed her up, then tossed the clothing to her. She laid them out on the rock to also dry in the sun, and turned over the other clothes. Cal waded back up the beach to meet her as she started to step into the water. "It's cold," she complained, goose flesh erupting along her arms.

Cal pulled her closer against him, embracing her as he stepped backwards. When the water was up to his waist he crouched, pulling Gillian down with him. He told her he'd keep her warm and smoothed his hands over the skin of her back, washing away the sun block and the sweat. He massaged her shoulders and neck and Gillian dropped her head against his, sitting in his lap, telling him it felt nice. Cal ran his hands over her arms, her legs, the inside of her thighs, washing everything away. Gillian's fingers fluttered against his back but mostly she just sat there and let him.

Once they were clean they got out and lay in the sun, on the grass, to dry off the worst of the water, then got dressed. Cal's underwear was still damp but remarkably dry for such a short amount of time in the sun. Gillian directed the use of sun lotion once more, then they folded up the blanket and packed away the last of the drinking water into the bag and headed back for the beach they had started on. They sat in the shade of a coconut palm to wait for the boat. They could have radioed ahead to say they were ready early but they only had to wait an hour or so. It felt like no time at all because they talked or sat in comfortable silence. Gillian rested her head on Cal's shoulder. And it was nice. Warm and comfortable; no pressure, no need to be someone or do something, just be. Just be together. It was just so nice.

This was day two of marriage. Cal wondered where they'd be in twenty years. He hoped in a good place. A place as nice as this.


	146. Chapter 146

"Hello?"

Cal heard the call pick up at the other end even though Owen had his ear plastered to his father's cell phone.

"Where are you Mum?" Owen asked. He listened intently for a moment, blue eyes searching around the room, then laughed. Cal gave him raised eyebrows; asking the question again silently that Owen had just voiced. "She's in the garage," Owen told him with a delighted, gleeful expression.

"Really?" Lewis asked surprised from beside him, expressing what Cal was thinking himself.

"Go see if Mum needs help," Cal told him, resting his fist in his open palm and shifting them towards the door where Gillian was. Lewis wandered off.

"Ok bye," Owen went on quickly and shoved the phone at his father. He raced off towards the hallway after his big brother. Cal made sure the call had actually been disconnected before slipping his phone into his jeans pocket. The boys were back in less than a minute, a few shopping bags in each hand. Some of it was food, the rest were clothes; though Cal did spot a bag from a teenagers clothing store as well, not all just for Gillian. And then there she was and she had an expression on her face that was hard for Cal to read until he broke it down. There was the soft eyes of concern, but the hard lines of her mouth that meant, often, anger, and maybe in this case she was angry too but there was something else in the way her jaw was set that meant she was trying to hide it, or overcome it. Cal wondered what that meant.

"Here Mum?" Owen asked, indicating if they should put the bags on the breakfast bar.

"Yes," she answered.

Cal gave a slight smirk, "You should have taken them with you to carry your bags while you were shoppin."

Gillian turned to make sure the boys were doing what she asked of them and then she turned back to Cal and her face was not laughing. "Owen told me you told them how your Mom died." Her voice was low and urgent.

"Yeah. It kind of came up."

"Uh huh," Gillian responded disbelievingly, borderline hostile.

"I didn't plan it Gill," Cal countered feeling a little defensive.

"It was a conversation we should have had as a _family_," Gillian went on, almost as if he hadn't spoken.

"Yeah I know," Cal tried again and then Owen bounced over to where they stood.

"Hey Mum did you buy me a present?"

"Yes but take a seat on the couch for a second. Dad and I want to talk to you," Gillian pressed a directing hand to her son's shoulder.

"It wasn't me," Owen immediately responded, his blue eyes a little wider in innocence. Cal almost chuckled; both his boys, so entertaining.

"And Lewis," Gillian turned again to find their teenager silently putting the food away. "Wow thank you Lewis," Gillian told him enthusiastically. "For putting the food away." She went to help him finish while Cal sat with Owen, guarding him from taking off to escape the discussion. He did assure him he wasn't in trouble though.

Lewis sat next to Owen on the couch and Gillian moved to sit with Cal on the coffee table opposite. There was no preamble, Gillian went straight into it. She didn't even check with Cal to see what he had already told them and this was not one of those conversations they had pre-planned.

"So Dad talked to you about how Nana died?" But it wasn't really a question Gillian was expecting an answer to. "Do you have any questions about that?"

The boys sat there for a moment and even Cal felt a little stunned. He wasn't sure if that was because Gillian had felt left out, or because the subject warranted a direct approach. Or maybe he should have been pushing the boys to talk about it more.

Lewis gave a shrug.

Owen started to raise his hand and then dropped it with the flash of an amused smile. "If Nana was sad, how come she didn't tell her Mum and Dad? They could have made it better for her."

Now there was some interesting insight into Owen's little mind. Mum and Dad fixed everything, including the sad days. Which was good, great even, that he felt the way to solve something was to engage Mum and Dad's help, but also sad, because one day he was going to realise as much as the superheroes his parents were, they still had their kryptonite.

Gillian turned her gaze to Cal slightly, inviting him to answer. "Nana's Mum and Dad were already dead," Cal told them. By then it was too late. It was obvious they had never gotten her the help she needed. No one did. Not even her doctor was playing close enough attention in the end was he? Mostly, though, Cal had come to the conclusion that his mother was very good at hiding it from the people she didn't want to see.

"Oh," Owen noted bluntly.

"I don't even understand how someone could do that. Just... kill themselves. How could she not want to be alive?" Lewis gave his mother shrewd eyes, then glanced to his father, and back to his mother again. There was a challenge in his tone.

Gillian reached for Cal's hand, maybe to indicate that she would handle the answer to the question, which Cal was quite happy to let her do. He wasn't sure how to answer that one anyway. He had spent so long trying to figure out the answer himself, and it was only when he caught a glimpse into her world himself that he could maybe understand. But then he had hope and he knew miracles could happen, so no, he didn't understand. Or maybe he understood but he didn't agree with the choice she had made. Either way, Cal wasn't sure if Gillian took his hand to quieten him or to offer him some comfort, or as always, to give herself some. But she held his hand lightly and leaned forward to answer their son, breaking her grip for the two handed signs, but always falling back into Cal's palm.

"You know Lewis, how sometimes you find it incredibly frustrating with your hearing? When you can't hear the teacher or the other kids in your class? Sometimes you ask them to repeat it but sometimes even if they do you still don't understand what they say. Like they're speaking a foreign language. They don't make the effort to be clear or patient and you miss whatever it was. You know sometimes you say you wish you could just leave the room and disappear for the rest of the day because you feel unimportant?"

Lewis nodded and Owen stared at him. Yeah that was something that Owen probably didn't know because Lewis had only just started talking about it.

"It feels like that for a lot of people at different times. Sometimes I felt that way when my mom and dad wouldn't listen to me. And Dad feels like that sometimes too."

Cal nodded his agreement. And he was glad Gillian didn't explain when. It was hard enough explaining why someone they had never met was depressed, let alone their father. That was a conversation for another day.

"And Owen. When you're playing a game of baseball, like last weekend, when you were losing by quite a bit?"

That was putting it politely. They had had their asses handed to them by a far superior team.

"And you only had two more balls but needed six more runs to win and you couldn't possibly win the game?"

Owen nodded.

"You didn't give up though did you? Your whole team kept trying the very hardest that you could, even though you were going to lose and you all knew it?"

Owen nodded again, but this time it was slower, unsure, waiting for his mother to get to the point. Cal was also waiting for Gillian to get to the point. This story wasn't the same as Lewis's.

"What if you gave up? You could have just walked away from the game. Just quit and walked away," Gillian went on without missing a beat. Owen stared at her and Cal suddenly clicked as to her point. "But you didn't, did you? You kept going. Because you're strong, because it didn't matter too much, it's just a game and you'll learn to be better next time. You had a whole team and coaches there with you so it wasn't so scary right?"

Owen nodded and Lewis was listening intently.

"But for Nana. She was alone. No team mates. And she couldn't see that she could get better next time. It mattered to her so much," Gillian's voice softened.

"Everybody feels things differently than otha people," Cal added. "Mum cries durin' sad movies but we don't. And we don't get upset much when Harry Taylor goes to a mall and all the girls go out to see him."

"That's cos he's lame," Lewis cut in.

"But some people get really upset," Cal pointed out. Mostly teenaged girls, screaming and crying and carrying on.

"So do you understand a bit better now?" Gillian brought the conversation back around.

"How Nana might have felt she was very alone and sad and that she didn't know what else to do?" Cal added.

The boys nodded in unison.

"But I want you boys to remember," Gillian added sombrely. "That you're not alone. Because Dad and I are here and we're very willing to listen to anything you want to talk about. Anything that's bothering you or that you might want help to figure out. We want you to talk to us, not hurt yourselves."

"Don't be like Nana," Cal finished what Gillian apparently wasn't going to say. "She gave up. But you know, when I get sad, I talk to Mum and she helps me," Cal glanced to his wife and her face was so warm, so beautiful. "And if she doesn't undastand right away I keep tryin' and she makes sure she tries very hard to listen. It's important. All right?" Whoa he felt an overwhelming urge to cry. "Cos I don't want to lose you boys like I lost my Mum." A hot prickle beneath his eyelids and then watery vision. Cal blinked it back rapidly. Gillian's hand was squeezing his tightly and then her arm was around the back of his shoulders. The boys were there as well, getting their arms in there for awkward but sweet and comforting hugs and caressing hands.

"We love you Dad," Owen told him.

"Thank you. I love you too. Very much."

"Verr, verr much," Lewis murmured.

Cal looked up and gave him a smile. "Promise?"

Lewis nodded and Cal raised his right hand, pinky extended. Lewis wrapped his smaller finger around his father's. Cal offered it to Owen next and he did the same. Then Gillian added hers and so Lewis returned his. All their fingers were intertwined and Cal leaned over to give Gillian a kiss. So much love. Always.

And love conquered all.


	147. Chapter 147

Cal sat next to his wife in the little chapel, in the aisle a few rows back from the very front pews; close friends but not family. Loker was there with his wife just along the row from them. Ben Reynolds was there with his wife a row back. Everyone had a wife these days, and children on the way. Emily was there as well, except she had a husband. And now Ria was getting married to another one. Yep, she was finally taking the plunge. Again. Cal knew Andrew had asked her half a dozen times, because he had told Gillian and Gillian had told Cal. The poor guy. He was so in love with Ria but it had taken her a long time to fall in love with him. Gillian advised him to be patient, that Karl had died very suddenly and Ria would need time; Andrew was more than willing to wait. Gillian told Cal all of this. He hadn't been listening in on the conversation surreptitiously.

Gillian loved weddings. Beautiful expressions of love, or something. Cal spent most of the ceremony looking around, watching Ria's face, Andrew's, then his wife. For different reasons. With Ria he was curious to see how she was doing with all of this. Andrew was a traditional kind of guy. White, church wedding, lots of family, the works. And Gillian, well Cal watched Gillian because she was always so fascinating to him. Always. He liked the softness to her eyes while she watched the vows being exchanged.

He didn't even get told off for staring. He got smiles and handholding, like a wedding was a free pass for gooey public displays of affection. They danced and had cake and made small talk, which was pretty easy to do considering Cal knew everyone seated at their table; they were people he had worked with or still did. Cal danced with Ria and had a flashback to her first wedding, a memory that had not yet returned to him after all that therapy. He asked her about it and Ria filled in a few more of the blanks from that day. When Cal turned them slightly he found Gillian watching him. She gave him a smile and he returned it.

Cal and Gillian stayed late. Ria came to sit at the table with Eli and Faye, Cal and Gillian, Emily and Ajay, Ben and Rebecca. They drank wine and talked. Eventually Andrew came over to join them so they switched to telling Ria stories, laughing as they embarrassed her. In the end, they all had to leave because the hire on the function room was up. Cal called a taxi to take them home. When they got in Gillian snuck into Lewis's room to let him know they were home again, and to thank him for babysitting. Cal went to say goodnight to Owen. He barely registered his father's presence.

When Cal got to their bedroom, Gillian was kicking off her shoes and letting her hair down. "Unzip me?" She requested.

Cal stepped up and grabbed at the petite zipper. He had to concentrate quite a bit to get a good grip on it and peeled it down slowly. He placed a kiss on Gillian's bare shoulder. She gave a pleased hum. "I think I'm a little pissed," Cal noted near her ear before moving away again.

Gillian turned to give him a grin over her shoulder. A highly amused and gleeful grin. "I think me too. You know what that means?"

"We're gonna have headaches in the mornin'?"

"No," Gillian moved towards him, raising her arms to wrap them around his neck. "It means we always have really great sex."

Cal's face bloomed into a brilliant grin to match hers and he laughed a little. His hands reached for her hips, pulling her in closer against him. "Was that a suggestion?"

"Yes I'm proposing you."

"Propositionin'?"

"Yes that," Gillian agreed. "Clearly I'm a little bit more wasted than you." She giggled.

Cal grinned again, felt a bubbling warmth spreading up from his diaphragm. "Or maybe I'm just more in control of my faculties."

Gillian laughed, gave him a little shove, then stepped forward again to bump into him. She petted her fingers against the back of his neck. "Show off."

Cal brought his hands up to her back, feeling the loose folds of her dress falling over his fingers. Gillian pressed a kiss against his lips and rested her forehead against his. "Mm can we go to bed?"

"Of course," Cal agreed.

"Ok," Gillian whispered. "Cos I'm kind of horny." She stepped away again, her dress falling from her shoulders to pool around her waist. She gave her hips a wiggle and it fell further, down her slender legs, to pool at her feet. She stepped out of the clothing without missing a beat, while Cal watched on, fascinated, enthralled, feeling something swirling through him. Gillian carried on to her dresser, finding a shirt to wear in bed and Cal turned away, his heart beating a little harder. He stripped off his suit, followed Gillian to brush teeth, and climbed into bed with her in just his underwear. Gillian snuggled up close to his bare chest immediately. Then she started kissing him in the darkness. Cal smoothed a hand into her waist and leaned into her mouth but she pulled away.

"Wait, wait," she said breathlessly.

"Why?" Cal grumbled.

"I want to talk to you."

"You're a tease," Cal told her.

"Just a minute," Gillian rubbed his ear lobe.

It was already hot under the blankets. "Can you make it quick?"

"That's what she said," Gillian quipped at the same time Cal did. They laughed. Or Cal laughed and Gillian giggled. She turned into him, pressed kisses along his jaw, then moved away again. "Why are you so wonderful?"

"Hm?" Cal asked startled.

"You know at the wedding we were talking."

"Mm," Cal said again. _Get to the point_.

"Everyone was complaining about their husbands. Eli never does the dishes. Ben leaves his dirty socks in the couch," Gillian gave a little sigh. "You never leave your socks in the couch."

"_In_ the couch?" Cal clarified.

"Yes _in_ the couch."

"To be fair I used to leave them on the bathroom floor."

"And you don't even do that anymore." Gillian kissed him again. "And you always do the dishes without me having to ask."

"Well most of the time you cook so... You shouldn't have to ask. That's not how it works. We're a team rememba?"

"Yes," Gillian kissed him again, a surprise attack. "That. That's the thing. But you know when before and I was married to Alec?"

Cal gave a groan, despite wanting to laugh at the way she minced her words. Gillian was a fun drunk. "You said his name."

"_I_ would be the one sitting at the table complaining that he never cleaned the bathroom or went groceries shoppy."

"Are you tellin' me in a funny roundabout way that I basically kick ass?"

Gillian giggled again. "Yes! Totally that." Her fingers fluttered against his skin, constantly moving, stroking, smoothing.

Cal chuckled a little. "Well then thank you."

Gillian gave a pleased noise. "You're welcome," she murmured as she came in close again for another kiss. "You're so hot."

Cal wondered if she meant... nah it didn't matter what she meant. He was going to take that to mean 'sexy' and he liked hearing that from her. "You know what we talk about while you women were complainin' away?" Cal went, surprising himself a little. He didn't usually volunteer to sell out secret male affairs. It was intoxication; alcohol and Gillian.

"Hm nope. What?" Gillian ran her tongue along his jaw and Cal shivered.

"Whose dress we could see through."

He expected to be told off. Instead he got: "Let me guess. Faye?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"Uhm you're not the only one with eyes."

"There was definitely some nipplage goin' on."

Gillian gave a slight laugh. "I might not have noticed _that_ much."

"Wateva," Cal retorted.

"You know she wasn't wearing underwear."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"So you _were_ lookin'?"

"No she told me when we went to the bathroom. She said she couldn't wear a stitch of underwear with that dress because it would show through."

"A lot else showed," Cal said knowingly. Gillian gave him a light swat but that just made him laugh and she was giggling again anyway. So much fun when she'd been drinking.

Gillian gave another little sigh. "I really like you."

"Thanks. I really like you too. You give me a chance to get to the dishes without naggin' at me."

"It's annoying when I ask."

"It is," Cal agreed.

Gillian gave another slight laugh, amused, not insulted. They had moved way beyond the point of being offended in their relationship. "Can we have sex now?" She asked in a small voice.

"God yes," Cal agreed, turning into her and seeking out her mouth.


	148. Chapter 148

Cal was sixty and sometimes he worried that he might not be able to keep up with his kids anymore. Owen was seven and still an incredibly energetic boy. Cal saw the way Emily had to race after Ethan, now that the toddler was walking and running around, and he wondered how he had done it, twice more, so late in his life. He must love his wife very much. Of course he did. He often thought about what he wouldn't do for her.

Gillian was curled up against his side, right now, where they lay squished into a lounger on the patio area outside of their living room, keeping close to him for the warmth under the blanket. Although, it wasn't like she had much choice. It was a pretty tight fit within the arms of that lounger. Not that it was particularly cold, or maybe it was just that Gillian did a very successful job of keeping _him_ warm. It probably helped that they were cuddled up next to a brazier, a new toy from Cal's birthday several months ago, that they could only really use effectively now that it was getting cooler at night. It was at Gillian's back, the flames at Cal's face, and he felt a little flushed.

Lewis and Owen had run off inside to get the rest of the marshmallows; so long as they kept Cal supplied he didn't mind too much if they ate their way through the entire packet tonight. Sometimes it was nice to just let them indulge. They were good kids. And they were having so much fun toasting the marshmallow in the flames and then either handing them over for their parents or sucking down the gooey flesh themselves quickly, burning their mouths and hands but giggling about it. There had been a few fires, and one spectacularly messy marshmallow blood splatter all over the paving stones. They were probably going to be up late now. Hyped up on sugar. Gillian bought the marshmallows.

"You've gone all quiet," Gillian murmured, shifting her head. She was so still Cal almost forgot she was there while he daydreamed, aside from the solid weight of her practically lying all over him; it was the easiest way for them to fit together.

"I was thinkin'."

"About what?"

"You. The kids."

"What about our kids?" She sounded a little dubious.

"Oh you know? The amount of raw suga they've inhaled this evenin'."

"Mh hm. Dibs not having to try to get them to bed."

Cal gave a chuckle and then the boys were back, the container of marshmallows in Lewis's hand and the both of them brandishing their slightly singed skewers like light sabres. The sun was practically gone by now and it had cast beautiful colours on the clouds over the roofs of their neighbours homes. Now the cheerful candy pinks and reds were turning to deep melancholy purples and blues as twilight descended upon this side of the world. The brazier ran on a gas cylinder, though it did have an open flame for the toasting and false logs to make it look as though it was fuelled by wood. Cal could smell the chemical marker of the gas and thought a wood fire would have been so much nicer; it would have really added to the atmosphere. The smell of smoke in the air. The crackle and hiss of sap overheating. The glow of embers. The roar as more fuel was added.

A stick of marshmallows came their way and Cal reached out his right hand from under the blanket to take it. He offered it to Gillian and she took it from him. He could feel her jaw working against his collar bone as she chewed and then her fingers were pressing an underdone vanilla marshmallow against his lips. He opened his mouth and she pushed the treat inside. Sweetness painted the inside of his cheeks and even after Cal had dissolved the sugar he spent time sucking everything else he could find of it from behind his teeth and the roof of his mouth; digging around with his tongue.

Gillian reached a hand back to give the skewer back to Owen, who was sitting closest to them, perched on the wooden seat on the other side of the brazier, and licked her fingers clean. Owen took the make-shift utensil with a nod, pink melted marshmallow oozing from between his lips. When Gillian turned back Owen was already starting to thread more marshmallows onto the empty stick. Cal turned his face back to the sky, watching the stars start to come alive. "First star," he murmured to his wife.

"Hm?" She asked softly.

"First star of the night," he repeated. He had a background memory of his father telling him something about the stars. No, not his father. Someone else. It was after his mother had died. Saying she was the first star in the night, always looking down on him. Who had told him that? A neighbour or... An aunt. He remembered now. An aunt he never liked, on his father's side, who in that moment, gave him a little pocket of strength to keep going on, knowing his mother was up there looking down on him.

"Make a wish?" Gillian asked.

Cal realised he'd never told her that story. Why not? But he wasn't going to repeat it here. He knew the boys could hear him, well Owen could hear him, and it was not something he wanted them to be thinking about right before bed. Sheltering was not the same as lying. It was not. "Sure make a wish," Cal encouraged.

"Wow," Gillian responded. "That was quick." Cal expected another skewer to appear in their vicinity but he was wrong and Gillian went on. "My wish came true almost instantly," and she gave him a big squeeze and he grinned; she was being cheesy. He got it now. He gave her a squeeze back, knowing she was teasing but only half so.

"Dad there's no more marshmallows," Owen spoke up.

"Oh well," Cal responded lightly. He noticed there hadn't been another skewer heading in their direction for a while. He supposed it went two for the boys, one for them.

"What do we do now?" Owen asked.

"Go to bed?" Cal suggested.

"Can we toast something else?" Owen again.

"No," Gillian spoke up.

"Aw," Owen gave a short complaint.

"Could always go to bed," Cal reiterated but he wasn't serious and the boys knew that.

"Whoa look at all the stars." That was twelve year old Lewis.

Gillian's fingers smoothed around the curve of Cal's ribs.

"Dad, do the stars look different in your country?" Owen again.

"My country is your country Owen, so yeah they do," Cal answered.

"England," Lewis said to Owen and a second later Owen was asking his question again, but it was reworded.

"Do the stars look different in England?"

"No they look the same."

"The stars look different in the south," Lewis volunteered.

"Very good," Cal noted.

"The south of what?" Owen asked confused.

Cal felt a puff of breath against his neck and the slight vibration of his wife stifling a laugh. Owen was often away in his own world, doing his own thing, and it seemed he wasn't paying attention, but in reality, he was. He paid maybe not as much attention as his big brother, but he was still thinking about things. Maybe he just didn't always voice what was on his mind. Which made him quite a bit like Lewis really. They were so alike in so many ways Cal had a harder time explaining how they were different besides the classic: Lewis was an introvert and Owen the extrovert.

So Owen got that Cal had grown up in a different country, and he was thinking about how two countries were different, and that stars could look different in each sky. Just not that there were north and south parts of the planet.

"The south half of the world," Lewis clarified.

"Southern hemisphere," Gillian called out.

"How do the stars look there?" Owen asked.

"They don't have a north star," Lewis answered first.

"Then how can they know where north is?"

Cal chuckled this time. Owen knew what he was trying to ask, he just hadn't worked out how to phrase the question properly. "They can't see the North Pole," Cal told him. "Because they're in the south but there are stars that point to the South Pole, which they're close-a to right?" He looked over at his son while he talked, adding in a few one handed signs he could manage for Lewis; Gillian was lying on his other arm. Cal went on to talk about the different parts of the sky visible from the south compared to the north. He didn't know exact details, apart from the North Pole/South Pole thing, but he did know it was different down there. He didn't remember paying too much attention to the stars on his trips to the southern hemisphere. But he did recollect the water went down the drain the other way.

"Dad, how come you lived in England?" Owen asked next.

"You're the popular one tonight," Gillian noted softly against Cal's throat.

"That's where Dad was born," Lewis answered that one too. Cal was impressed he remembered so much about his father's life.

"Then how come you came to here?"

Now that was a good question. And Lewis remained silent.

"I had had enough of bein' in England," Cal answered, feeling Gillian tense against him slightly. She didn't intervene though. The reason he had left England had been to run a million miles from his life. But that wasn't really something he wanted to explain to his sons or even knew how to.

"You came to marry Zoe right?" Lewis asked.

"Well not quite," Cal clarified. "I came here first, then married Zoe."

"How come you're not married to Zoe anymore?"

"Cos I'm married to Mum."

"Did you have enough of Zoe too?"

Cal almost laughed. Gillian did a little, but turned her mouth against his neck to muffle the sound again.

"No they didn't love each other anymore," Lewis told his little brother.

Kind of true. Both of them.

"Zoe and I felt that we couldn't be with each otha anymore," Cal added.

"How come?"

"We grew apart. We stopped bein' friends and we didn't love each otha very much anymore. Sometimes it happens," he added lightly, trying to be neutral or nonchalant. He didn't want his kids to read too much into their father being divorced. He didn't want them to get preconceived ideas about marriages falling apart and people reaching the point where they couldn't stand the other. Hold on to the magic. Make it work.

"Is that how come you're not married to that guy?" Owen laid down his next query.

What had brought on all these questions? The stars?

"Alec," Lewis supplied.

When had Lewis even heard about Alec? Cal thought, while he felt Gillian shift against him to turn her head and raise a hand to sign. Did Gillian tell them about Alec? It wasn't so strange with Zoe, she was Emily's mother. She was in photos and she had met them and Emily talked about her mother. But Alec. Alec had practically disappeared off the face of the earth as far as the Lightman's were concerned.

"Yes," Gillian reiterated. "It happened like that for me and Alec too."

"Did you copy?"

Cal chuckled, incredibly entertained. "Yeah Gill did you copy?" He asked her, lowering his voice so it was more for her than the crowd. A finger pressed into his ribs. He had nowhere to escape to but it was relatively light, a warning.

"No Owen. Sometimes things just happen."

"But if it didn't? Then you couldn't marry Dad."

"Yeah I guess," Gillian admitted but Cal could hear the impressed tone lacing her words. She, like him, liked the way their sons thought.

"Oh then we would never exist!" Owen added. He turned to Lewis with a horrified expression on his face. Lewis watched impassively for a moment and Cal swore that they were communicating without words. Not signing but somehow sending telepathic messages into each other's brains. After a moment Lewis snuck an arm around Owen's shoulders and drew him into a rough hug.

"How come we never meet Alec? Is he not alive anymore?" Owen the chatterbox.

"We're not friends anymore," Gillian told him. "So I don't talk to him. Why would you meet him? He's not our family or our friend."

Harsh but true.

"But then how come we talk to Zoe?"

"Cos of Emmy," Lewis piped up. "Zoe is Emily's Mum so that means Zoe is still in her life and cos she's our sister then it means that sometimes Zoe's in our life."

Cal had told him that. And he had recited it almost perfectly.

"It's just all very confusing," Owen sighed.

'_Yeah_,' Cal thought. Life was confusing. But it was so much less confusing with Gillian than it had been with Zoe. Life with Gillian was in general, so much better. Cal looked over at his sons, both looking thoughtfully into the flickering gas flame. The elder Lewis, starting to turn into a man, and Owen, who it seemed was picking up his brother's knack for asking questions until he got answers that satisfied him. They were really so very interesting.

"Bed time," Gillian announced, pushing herself up from Cal. He felt colder without her there to keep him warm. "You can think about it in bed."

**PJ**

_AN: I just wanted to give you guys a bit of warning that tomorrow is the last chapter._


	149. Chapter 149

Cal was strangely nervous. He fidgeted with the tie at his neck again. It felt a little tight. A black bow tie. It was probably just because he was anxious. And he was in a full tuxedo, dark cummerbund and shiny shoes and all. He was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in all the get up but as popular advice had dictated/out voted him, this was what he should be wearing. He never wore a tuxedo and wearing one on this occasion would add massive impact to the moment; he was aware of that. And he was happy to listen to the advice of others too. Because this was his twenty year wedding anniversary and he really wanted to make it special. Really, really special. So his kids had ganged up on him and insisted he wear the tux. They had also debated over other events planned for the evening before talking Cal into believing they were the best options. He wanted special, special was what he was getting. Not flashy and false. Meaningful and magical.

"Dad would you leave it?" Lewis reprimanded him. He used 'leave' and 'behind'. "It's fine."

"You'll make it be funny," Grace piped up from the couch.

Cal dropped his hands to his sides, resigned to obey. Were they trembling? He fought the urge to put them in his pockets. His kids, all three of them, might have helped him plan out this evening but the words, they were his. And he had gone over them a gazillion times to make sure they were exactly what he wanted to say. Even then he wasn't sure he had it perfect. God yes he was nervous.

"You look great Dad," Emily added up. Cal looked over at her. She was on the loveseat reading a book to her four year old daughter. His daughter with her daughter. He gave them both a smile. Ethan was now eight, Owen had just turned thirteen and Lewis was going away to college in just a few months. And Cal had been married to Gillian for twenty years now. Twenty years. It warranted the tuxedo.

They were all hanging around, waiting for Gillian to get home from work. Ajay was down in Lewis's bedroom in the front of the house, with Ethan and Owen, acting as lookouts, and Lewis was making one last adjustment to the decorations over by the windows. Cal had finished early that day and everyone had converged on the house after school to help Cal get ready. They were also there for support. They had transformed the living room while Cal showered and dressed. Cal's marriage wouldn't entirely be what it was without all of them there either, so it was fitting that they were witness.

Owen suddenly came pounding down the hall, Ethan close behind. "She's here!" He called excitedly, Ethan echoing him a second later.

"Gramma's here!"

Cal felt a fist of nerves as he stood from his perch on the bigger couch's arm. "Are you sure?" He asked cautiously.

Ethan nodded vigorously. "We saw her car."

"Are we sure it was Gramma's car?" Cal asked, deadly serious. There had already been two false alarms. Which is why Ajay had gone down to also keep an eye out on the third watch. He came into the room next and Cal looked over at him and his son-in-law gave a nod of confirmation. The room went quiet and they heard the sound of the garage door suddenly going up.

"Ooooh!" Grace cried out, pushing forward on the cushion to climb down. "Gramma's here now!"

"All right," Emily spoke calmly. "Put the book back."

They started to gather behind Cal, where he had moved to stand by the deep step from the kitchen down to the lounge. Lewis went to turn the lights out, even though Cal was practically standing next to the switches himself, and landed his hand on his father's shoulder in a slight, brief squeeze, as he went to take his place in the group. The room went dim, lit now by thousands of small white lights Lewis had set up around the room. Some of them were in strings, like the ones they used at Christmas, while others were just miniature lights affixed to just about everything. Cal wasn't entirely sure how he'd done it, but Lewis had shown him where'd got the idea from: a movie with something similar; lights were actually attached to miniature magnets with electrical tape. He had them all over the ceiling and furniture, like a starry landscape.

"This is so exciting!" Ethan noted.

Ajay put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Be quiet Ethan. You don't want to spoil it for Pop."

Ethan nodded but fidgeted where he stood. He was, interestingly, quite like Owen. Unable to keep still. At least Owen was like that when he was younger.

The sound of an engine could be heard faintly on the other side of the house, then the garage door going down again, and Cal felt his stomach quiver. How could he be so nervous? It was Gillian. He'd known Gillian a really long time. It was probably because he was turning this into a big deal. It _was_ a big deal. Twenty years of marriage. Twenty. And he had known Gillian for half her life now, not half of his, not quite yet, but certainly half of hers, and that was amazing to him. Amazing. He liked that.

Then it went quiet and the anticipation in the air thickened. They had, technically, already celebrated their wedding anniversary, as well as mother's day, on the weekend. The boys took care of the mother's day aspect, and made a special anniversary dinner for their parents. It was nice. Really nice. But this was the icing on the already incredible cake. Twenty years warranted icing.

The garage door went down again and that must have muffled the sound of Gillian's car door closing because the next thing Cal knew, he could see the shadow of her approaching down the hallway. One of the kitchen doors was closed, the one on the right, which would block off the view of most of the room, forcing Gillian to go through the left side, and hopefully, the first thing she would then see would be Cal. The room was dim but not so dark that all of them standing there would not be noticed. Emily and Grace had added candles to Lewis's light so there was more than enough to be seen by. Gillian approached after her shadow closely and Cal felt a flare of butterflies.

Gillian came into the room, a hand on the closed kitchen door, her face a little confused, her mouth open to probably ask what was with the door (a door they never had closed) and then she saw them all, standing there, waiting for her, and stopped still, surprised. Cal stepped forward, pulling the jewellery box from his pocket and got down on one knee on the step (because his knee probably wouldn't handle the hard tiled floor of the kitchen) in front of the semi-circle of their family, in front of his wife. He popped open the box to reveal a round solitaire diamond ring against a platinum band; he had made sure it would match her wedding band. He watched Gillian's jaw fell open in surprise and her purse dropped heavily from her hand to the ground. Cal managed a smile, wobbly, because good lord he was so nervous. He should have done it like this the first time around.

"Gillian. Will you?" Cal hesitated. Ok, so this part he hadn't planned, the opening bit that was. The rest he fully had planned. "Accept my ring?"

Gillian came closer, stared down at it and then up at his face. The stunned shock was so evident on her face but there was also confusion. "What?" She started.

"Should have got you one ages ago luv," he told her gently.

Gillian looked down at the ring again.

"If you don't like it," Cal began. He was expecting some surprise but now he was starting to worry he had done wrong.

"I like it," Gillian cut him off simply and her face changed into softer lines.

Cal gave her a smile as she met his eye again. "Do you want it?" He dared to tease.

"Yes," Gillian nodded.

The little crowd behind Cal's back started to applaud and called out their approval. Gillian looked up at them, surprised again, but Cal hoped in a good way, because it looked like she had tears in her eyes. Cal took the ring out of the box carefully, his hands were slippery but they weren't shaking anymore. Not that the hard part was over. Not at all. He reached for her hand and slipped the ring over her knuckle to nestle against her wedding band. Perfect match. Of course it was. Also, perfect fit, Cal thought smugly.

"Cal," Gillian just about whispered. "You're not going to tell me our wedding wasn't actually legal are you?"

Cal laughed. "No it was legit."

"Ok. Then why?"

"Because I love you," he answered. As the clapping behind them died down again Cal kept talking while he kept kneeling, holding on to her hand, looking up at her. "I love you," he repeated. "And the last twenty years have been the best of my life. But it's more than that. It's not just that we've been married for twenty years. It's the beautiful kids we raised togetha." He hoped she understood he was talking about Emily as well. "And it's the life we built. The man you made me want to be and the people I've come to love as a result of that." And here he meant Ria and Andrew (sort of Andrew, he was still new. But if Ria loved him then he was all right in Cal's books), Loker and Faye, Kent and Simon, Kiera, her partner, and yes, even his son-in-law Ajay. "You're such a beautiful person and the way you tie this family togetha." Because she did, of course she did, she was the matriarch. She was the one who told Cal to cut Ajay a break, she was the one who overcame years of grief to have hope, and she was the one who had brought Cal back from the brink so many times, it was a miracle.

Cal told her all of that. He knew all the things he wanted to cover and how to slide between subjects easily. "You're everythin' to me. Everythin'. Twenty years married to you have been nothin' short of amazin' and I really can't wait for twenty more."

"Cal," Gillian tried and she was crying steady tears. She tugged on his hand, encouraging him to stand again and there was more clapping from behind Cal's back. Gillian pulled him into a fierce hug, spluttering into his neck a little as she pressed her face into him and then a kiss and then she whispered in his ear.

Cal pulled back to give her a grin but before he could respond, or tell her about the next stage of their evening, everyone descended on them. Owen, who had already seen the ring half a dozen times, wanted to see it again. And then so did Grace. So Gillian's hand was pulled one way while the ring was inspected, and her body in the other direction while Lewis hugged her. Then Owen, then Ethan, then Grace and finally Emily and Ajay all got their hugs too.

"What did Gramma say?" Ethan asked Cal once his hug was over.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Cal retorted.

"Oh my god, look at this place!" Gillian exclaimed like she had just noticed the room.

"Lewis," Cal indicated. Lewis smiled.

"It's beautiful," Gillian noted with enthusiasm, moving her hand around her face in a circular motion. She looked around and up, at the lights everywhere, while Owen and Ethan piped up that they had helped. Lewis put his arms around his younger brother roughly and Owen squirmed away from him. It didn't even take a glare from their father for them to quit monkeying around.

"We put the flowers over there," Grace spoke up, pointing to her contribution, which was to assist her mother in rearranging the mother's day bunches of flowers into vases so they would sit on the breakfast bar, which had been completely cleared of its usual clutter, as sentinels; one at each end.

"That's so great, thank you," Gillian told the little girl. "All of this," Gillian indicated the room and the people in it and she had tears in her eyes again. "Is so wonderful." She pushed open hands into the air slightly like she was double high-fiving the room.

"Anyway, you have to go," Emily prompted.

"Oh yeah," Cal remembered. He was having far too much fun stepping back and watching how everyone fussed around his wife. "We've got dinna resavations."

"I'll get changed," she used 'clothes' and she suddenly seemed to notice what Cal was actually wearing because she stared steadily for a second, then met his eye. "Into something nice," she added. She appraised him again, a little question in her eyebrows and Cal gave her nothing but a pleasant smile.

"Bye Gramma have a good time," Ethan called out.

"Thanks Ethan," Gillian responded warmly. "I won't be long," she added as she turned to go upstairs. "Thank you guys," she said again from the doorway after stooping to retrieve her bag from the tiles. "This was really nice." And she disappeared.

Cal held a finger to his lips until they could hear the door close overhead and then they all went into motion again. And noise. They all talked at once about Gillian's surprise, how they had totally fooled her and how she was so crying even though she tried not to. Ajay went to get his kids' coats and he and Emily started to force them onto their children as the three youngest gushed about how cool it all was and Grace went on about how pretty the ring was. When she grew up she wanted pretty diamonds too. Cal put the empty jewellery box on the breakfast bar, now that he didn't need it. Owen and Lewis had gone into the hall to get their own coats, being careful to be quiet and not alert their mother upstairs.

"You sure you ok with all the lights Dad?" Lewis asked, using a one handed 'light' sign.

"Yeah buddy thanks," Cal told him. The candles he was going to put out before they went for dinner. The lights that were plugged into the wall could be turned off easily enough. The ones running on small batteries would eventually just wear themselves out. Cal didn't want to turn them off (which would involve taking each and everyone down and taking the batteries out) and he had paid for the batteries after all. He had one more idea for the little fairy lights once Gillian was ready and before they would leave the house. "They're fantastic," Cal added, using a variation of 'wonderful'.

Lewis practically beamed brighter than the glow of lights in the room. "Ready to go Wen?" He asked his little brother, moving 'R' hands from right to left. Owen zipped up his jacket all the way to his chin and gave a nod. "Have a good time," Lewis told his father, giving him a quick hug.

"Love you Dad," Owen added as he hugged his father goodnight.

Cal told his sons he loved them too. He walked with them down to the front door. Emily carried Grace and Ethan walked with his father and they were all incredibly quiet as they snuck out the front door and to waiting cars. Ethan had gloriously informed his grandfather that they had parked around the corner so Gillian wouldn't see their car, like it had been his idea. Lewis was parked out the front in his usual place. Owen gave a wave as the car turned and headed in the other direction. Cal closed the front door carefully, made sure it was locked, and headed into the house quietly. He listened and could hear the rushing water in pipes that meant Gillian was in the shower. So he had time to wait again.

**PJ**

Cal was waiting for Gillian when she came downstairs. It had taken her forty-seven minutes to get ready and Cal was not only impressed she had kept it to under an hour, considering she had showered and done her hair and make-up, but also by what she was wearing. He had literally had to twiddle his thumbs while waiting for her, and resisted the urge to go up to spy about three times. He wanted her to surprise him, just like she would want to, and she did not disappoint. The dress she was wearing was a dark, rich purple, floor length with a deep neck line. It wasn't exactly plunging, but there was a serious amount of cleavage Gillian had every right to flaunt, but tastefully. The dress was halter neck, which meant her shoulders and back were bare and Cal could already imagine running his fingers along her soft skin, making her shiver under his touch. Even though she didn't turn around, Cal knew the dress was low in the back and the lining around the edges was decorated with a pattern of interlocking flower-work.

Gillian had swept her hair up into a roll at the back of her head but as Cal got closer, he could see there were already strands falling around her neck. So kissable. Her eyes were dark and her skin flawless, and really, for sixty-two, she looked fantastic; at least ten years younger. She was holding heels in her hands and her skin had a slight flush to it. "Are we going to be late?" She asked as if she were hurried. She stopped by the breakfast bar to put her shoes on her feet.

"No rush luv," Cal told her softly, still taking in the sight of her. She had a tiny silver chain around her neck and a small pendant. Cal knew that pendant. And of course, on her hand, the new diamond ring, which he wasn't used to seeing yet, so it constantly drew his eye. It caught the light easily from Lewis's glow-worm creation.

Gillian leaned one hand against the breakfast bar to slip the second heel onto her right foot and looked up at him. From that angle, Cal could see all the way down the front of her dress. Especially now that he had gotten closer to her. "Good view?" She deadpanned.

"Incredible," Cal noted.

"Well you set a high standard," Gillian straightened up again. She was so much taller than him, in the heels, but also because she was standing on the step. Cal reached out his hand and she took it and he guided her towards him carefully. He pulled her closer against his chest, taking her right hand in his and raising it up to the side. He placed his other hand into the small of her back. Gillian slid a finger along the lapel of Cal's tuxedo and then gave him an appreciative expression. "You're wearing a tux just for me?"

But she already knew the answer so Cal just gave a slight smile, still in awe at how stunning she looked, marvelling again that she had made herself so beautiful in less than an hour. Cal swayed them to an imaginary tempo and Gillian obediently hooked her chin onto his shoulder. She moved her body closer against his, so their legs brushed as they moved in a slow shuffle. Cal felt her head move and she noted again how amazing the lights were. Cal agreed. It really was magical standing beneath them. Lewis had outdone himself.

"Where's everyone else?" Gillian murmured.

"Gone."

"Gone where?" Gillian prompted when Cal did not elaborate.

"Away."

Gillian pulled back to give him an unimpressed expression so he explained. "Lew and Wen are gonna sleep ova with their big sista tonight," Cal told her softly.

"Oh," Gillian noted.

"So we can have the house to ourselves," Cal added.

Gillian gave him a slight smirk. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Cal gave her a lazy smile. Then he leaned forward to press his lips against hers, realising he hadn't kissed her yet. Gillian shifted her lips to fit his in a soft and sweet but warm kiss. Gillian gave a slight 'mmm' and when she pulled away she immediately wrapped her arm around his back in an embrace, resting her head against his.

"This is so nice," she sighed.

Yeah she was right. This was nice. She was warm in his arms and she smelt so good... vanilla because she knew how much he liked it. And she wore one of his favourite dresses, with his favourite shoes and god she looked so good. She was his wife, his everything. And this evening was by no means over.

"Ready for dinna?"

"Oh yeah," she agreed pulling back with a smile.

"You look amazin'," Cal told her sincerely.

"So do you," Gillian responded with a smile.

**PJ**

Cal had had many thoughts about the evening and how it should go. He thought about taking Gillian out of town. He thought about booking a hotel room for the night. He even though about a second honeymoon. But what he went with was a really nice dinner out, at one of the most popular and raved about fine dining restaurants in the district; a three course table de hote. And then it would be home again to... just be. Because really, neither of them did flashy very well, the ring was enough, and what they preferred was just being with each other, talking, reminiscing, being. That was as far as Cal got with plans; dinner and then home again. He had organised for the boys to go and stay at Emily's so he and Gillian could at least have the house to themselves; with two teenagers sometimes that was a way to create the most special evening. Time alone. Peace and quiet.

Dinner was incredible. Basil and sweet onion stuffed vine tomatoes on a bed of rice pilaf with a pepita pumpkin sauce. Lemon poached chicken inside red pepper raviolis with a feta and baby broccoli cream sauce. Dessert, oh dear god, was sticky chocolate cake, layered with caramel fudge and raspberry coulis, with a quenelle of orange flavoured crème and flowing white chocolate ganache. Cal made it about half way through his dessert before he felt sick but Gillian went on with relish. She didn't finish his though, because even as she scraped her plate clean, she complained how full she was. Cal ordered a coffee, mostly to kill time to let the wine in his system process enough for him to feel completely safe to drive home. And so he didn't get up and attempt walking too soon after all that sugar...

"That was so good," Gillian enthused, finally putting her spoon down.

A waiter came to clear their plates and Gillian gave him a bright smile of thanks. Cal sipped at his coffee, watching her. She fidgeted with the diamond engagement ring absently. "Is it all right?" Cal asked her guardedly.

"I love it," Gillian answered, glancing down to see what he was talking about, before looking up at him again with another warm smile.

"Are you sure, cos if you don't like it, we can take it back, get somethin' you'd ratha..."

"I _love_ it," Gillian told him with firm feeling, reaching out with her hand to grip his on his side of the table. Cal shifted his hand from the curl of his saucer to the curl of her hand and returned her smile. He gave a nod, said 'good'. He did actually feel relieved and her face wasn't telling him anything differently.

"How did you hide it?" Gillian asked.

"It was in my undawear drawer for a while but then I got really paranoid so put it unda the bed."

Gillian turned up her nose.

"Well I wasn't gonna leave it in the car. Someone could have nicked it."

"And someone could have snooped under the bed."

"No one goes unda there anymore," Cal pointed out. "Not since Owen was too big to fit."

Gillian gave a little amused smile. She must have been remembering when Owen did fit under the bed and how he'd like to hide there to surprise one of them. After three shocks they wised up and went looking for him first before walking by the bed, with a bucket of iced water. He quit hiding under there after that. But what Cal really meant was that Gillian wasn't going to look under the bed, because the boys didn't even know there was something to go snooping for; not like Christmas presents.

"And I wrapped it up in a plastic bag and put it right up by the wall so even if some little monsta felt the need to squirm around unda there, there was still a good chance they wouldn't find it." He had only shown the ring to Lewis and Owen that afternoon, when they were decorating. Emily had gone shopping with him.

"Hhmm very sneaky. Now I know where Owen gets it."

Cal returned her amused smile. He raised his cup to sip his coffee.

"Excuse me?" A male voice made them both turn. Tall, dark blonde hair, brown eyes. Cal assessed him quickly and easily; no threat, earnest expression, a little nervous, not a familiar face. Gillian looked over at the man a little startled. "Are you... Gillian?"

"Yes," she answered, making it sound like an unsure question.

"You were the resident psychologist at a Cloverfield Boy's Home, oh, uh, about two thousand and three?"

"Yes," Gillian said again, but this time she said it with more familiarity. The puzzle was starting to come together. Cal watched on with interest.

"My name's Seth," the man went on. Behind him a beautiful dark haired woman stood and waited. Cal quickly assessed her face too, but she was just politely listening, watching the man. He figured they were together.

"Seth!" Gillian suddenly clicked. She got to her feet. "Yes. I do remember you." She gave him a polite hug.

Seth beamed. "I saw you having dinner and just wanted to say hello before we left." He turned slightly behind him. "This is my wife, Isabella," he pronounced it with a soft 's' not a 'z'. The woman came forward and politely shook Gillian's hand.

"It's nice to meet you," she added, her accent Italian.

Gillian returned the sentiment and turned to introduce Cal too. He stood and shook hands with the both of them. He caught Gillian giving him _one of those_ looks but he wasn't sure what she meant for him to pick up on. He was being polite wasn't he? He even stayed standing until they finished talking. Seth said he wanted Gillian to know everything had worked out for him and that he remembered her from the boys' home, how she had helped him and looked after him.

Gillian smiled warmly, "I'm so glad."

Seth gave her another smile and turned to take his wife's hand. "We'll leave you to it. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Cal murmured a 'thank you' and Gillian told Seth it was so nice to see him again, and to meet Isabella, and then they were walking away and Cal and Gillian sat again. The delight was still in Gillian's eyes and Cal was starting to realise he didn't know what Seth was talking about. A boy's home? Gillian worked in a boy's home?

"Who was that?" Cal asked, leaning forward slightly. "I'm drawin' a blank."

Gillian looked over at him and the small flicker of disappointment was not unnoticed. "You met Seth before. When I worked at the boys' home. Do you?" She stopped, hesitated, she had almost asked him if he remembered.

"I'm gettin' senile," Cal told her, trying to play down the lapse of memory. Any lapse of memory unfortunately had a lot of negative connotations for them. But Cal also realised the date and that this particular incident occurred outside the time frame of his amnesia. And suddenly it was there. "This was when we met the first time."

"Yes," Gillian's face relaxed.

"Right yes. You were the in-house shrink."

"And you were basically a jerk," Gillian shot back.

Cal smirked. "I believe I was just doin' my job."

"Whatever," Gillian responded dryly.

"And so Seth was...?" Cal prompted.

"The first boy you interviewed that day," Gillian finished.

The last of it came back to Cal. "Right. Of course." He gave a nod. "I rememba."

**PJ**

When they got home, the glow from Lewis's lights was dim but still visible. With the Christmas fairy lights off and the candles all blown out, an even sweeter, intimate atmosphere was created. Gillian wanted to enjoy the ambience and Cal agreed; what wouldn't he give her? So she went upstairs for a minute and came back with the thin mattress from beneath Owen's bed, the one used for slumber party guests, and a blanket from the hall cupboard. Cal caught on and they made a make-shift bed in the middle of their living room floor. Cal was so full he was more worried about breaking out of his pants getting down on the ground, more than his joints protesting the descent. Getting up again was also going to be difficult, but would it be worth it to snuggle up with his wife underneath the faux sky? Yes.

It reminded him of so many other times, their date at the outdoor movie theatre ten years ago on their anniversary, curled up in the lounger in their own yard a handful of times, for sunrises and sunsets. Their bed. So many moments in bed; the most heartbreaking and the most wonderful. Gillian lay against him now, a leg hooked over his at the thigh, her arm over his chest, her head on his shoulder, close, because it was a single mattress, because there was nowhere else in the world she would be. Nowhere else in the world Cal would be.

Gillian's fingers petted at Cal's collarbone. "It's so beautiful," Gillian spoke softly.

Cal wondered if she meant the ring or the... When he turned his head he could see she was looking up at the lights. Some of the batteries were already dying and as he also glanced up one suddenly went out, like a wink. Gillian had hammed up her appreciation of the ring once they left the restaurant. Which Cal appreciated because he saw nothing but truth on her face as she went on about how sweet he was, how beautiful the jewellery was, how good his taste was, how perfect his timing had been.

Yeah he did like it when she stroked his ego.

Cal shifted his hand resting in the small of his wife's back. The material of her dress was thin, but there was a lining of satin beneath it and his fingers shifted relatively friction free. "You looked amazin' tonight," Cal told her because he wasn't sure he had voiced that enough either. It was never a good idea to start just taking things for granted.

"Thank you," Gillian murmured, her head shifting again. "So did you," and her hand smoothed over his chest, around his ribs and she pressed herself against him a little more tightly. "They've been amazing twenty years Cal."

"Mh hmm," he agreed, though his mind often drifted to the negative memories, the time they were apart, the heartbreak of IVF, Mitchell, Lily, cancer, the head injury, Owen's premature birth. And then of course, if he thought about Owen he had to smile. Thinking about Owen was actually a positive thing; a miracle, as Gillian claimed. The accident had been tough, but also fused them together in a way that spoke of exactly what they knew they could lose if they didn't try, consciously try. Cal could work his way back through all the things he had just listed and put a more positive spin on them. Or at least find some positive aspect. IVF had, of course, led them to Lewis. Cancer had led Cal straight to Kent. Without miracles and hope they probably wouldn't have gotten through twenty years together. But god it was so worth it. That was exactly what life was about, hope and the occasional brilliant miracle to just give more hope.

Cal shifted suddenly, dislodging Gillian against him, unsettling the blanket covering their bodies. He turned onto his side and flicked the blanket back into place expertly, then drawing his wife in close against him, so they were in mirror image. Gillian looked a little startled but when Cal stayed up, leaning on his elbow, so he could look at her face, she relaxed again. She brought up a hand to his cheek, smoothing over the roughness and around his ear, into his hair, stopping him, mouth open, before he could say a word. "I know," she said simply. "I love you too."

**PJ**

_AN: Today, while editing this chapter, I reached one million words for the saga (all eight parts). Quite a phenomenal feat considering I only ever intended to write the first one. I hope you've all enjoyed the journey. I have. I've enjoyed getting to know you and really appreciate the time you spent reviewing. Yes it's rather odd to finish on 149 when 150 would have been a nice even number, but I wrote this chapter about a month ago and couldn't bring myself to write any more after it. My muse has left the building._

_I hope that I have left the story in a place of peace and closure for everyone. I feel that way personally. I've tried to add in chapters here and there that were suggested or requested (which took the story from about 100 chapters to 149... I also got inspired to write a few more...) and I feel that I've given the Lightman's lives good and even coverage._

_So thank you for reading and reviewing. No, I don't plan on taking my stories down anytime soon. They will be here for your reading pleasure (though I will be going through periodically to check for typos so there might be small changes here and there). I hope to read some of you around sometime... Until then, take care, and thank you again._

_PJ_

_xx_


	150. Chapter 150

As Cal reached for the box and started to take the weight of it in his hands he realised it was a lot heavier than he had expected. He nearly smashed himself in the face as he dropped the box into the wall and lowered it to the ground. It tipped on its side and contents spilled out against the dry wall. Cal gave a little sigh and bent over to the right the box. Paper and books spilled out in a heap onto his shoes lined up against the wall, tumbling over each other, shedding loose sheaves. Cal gave another grumble and moved the box awkwardly to the space in the middle of the wardrobe, between his clothes and Gillian's. He had to kneel to gather up the spilt items, his hip feeling tight as he leaned over, trying to balance his weight and not fall.

His gaze drifted to a familiar item, a worn journal; his mother's diary. So he still had it. And it was stashed at the top of the wardrobe? Seemed a bit... oh but where else would he keep it? Somewhere for everyone to stumble over it? He flipped through it, finding it too hard all of a sudden to actually read the words. He used to have it memorised, well just about, and he was curious to find the words were now unfamiliar, knew, like he was seeing them again for the first time. That can't have been because of his head injury. This fell inside the safe zone of things he should remember. Cal sat back on his ankles for a moment, the closed book in his hands. He didn't feel an affinity anymore. Had he really... moved on from his mother's death? Finally?

Cal leaned over to put the item back in the box. He pulled it closer to him and tidied it again, stacking up the folders and books of the same size into order. He had a quick look through them but didn't really know what they were. Legal papers by the look of it; his divorce paperwork! Old passport. Birth certificate. Passport photos. Cal stared at them intently for a while. Taken before he had gotten so gray. Interesting. Then he sat back again, reaching for the loose papers that were still scattered over his shoes. He wondered why he had kept half of this crap. He thought he should maybe just toss it.

Cal's hand fell onto a heavy envelope; expensive paper. He tossed the other paper into the top of the box but turned the envelope over. His name was written on the front. Handwritten. In Gillian's script. His full given name. _Calvin_. His heart started to beat a little faster.

"Dad what you doing?"

Cal turned his head, startled. Lewis was standing in the doorway to the walk in closet, looking coy. "Uh, cleanin' up a mess I made. What are you doin'?"

Lewis came into the smaller space, resting a hand on his father's shoulder to move around him awkwardly, so he didn't step on his mother's shoes, all lined up neatly in two rows. He turned for the box Cal had just put back together. "What are these things?"

"Mine," Cal told him with a growl, gesturing to his chest, giving his son a light tickle. Lewis laughed and squirmed away, falling to his hands and knees amongst his mother's heels anyway. Cal put the envelope on top of a pair of his work shoes and stood. "Better fix those," he warned, pointing. While Lewis started straightening the shoes out again, Cal lifted the heavy box to his chest. He might be cutting down on physical therapy, but that didn't mean he was back to his old strength. He shifted the box in his hands so he was gripping it differently, so he could push it up, above his head and slide it onto the shelf again.

When he turned back, a little warm from the exertion, Lewis was walking carefully in a pair of his mother's pumps. He still had his own shoes on too. "Uh," Cal started to object. No, really, Gillian would kill him if he let Lewis ruin her shoes right? Cal reached over and picked Lewis up, extricating him from the shoes. "No," he told his four year old. He put Lewis on the carpet. "Don't wear Mum's shoes," he added. "You might break them."

"They're verr pitty."

"Yeah but they're also... tricky. Tidy them up," Cal directed instead. He felt a little shaky. He had probably over done it with the box. And manhandling Lewis. So he took a seat on the wardrobe floor, leaning against the door frame, directing his son, and reached for that envelope again. It had already been opened. Or, actually, as Cal looked closer, perhaps it hadn't actually been sealed in the first place. He pealed back the flap and slid the piece of paper inside out. It was also heavy, expensive, the same stationary as the envelope. Cal's curiosity peaked. What was Gillian doing writing to him? With no postage stamps or address...

Cal folded back the paper to read, feeling like he was unveiling a lost treasure. It was a lost treasure. With his memory, everything was a freaking lost treasure these days. The words were a little blurry but he could make them out ok. He read it through, his heart beating wilder, his body getting warmer. It was a love letter. Gillian had written him a love letter! Wow. Definitely worth keeping that was.

"What are you guys up to?" Gillian's voice came from above Cal's head.

He looked up at her. She was smiling at him, then her gaze went to her shoes. "Trying on my shoes again?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean again?" Cal asked back. Surely she was kidding him.

Gillian gave a smirk, stepped over his legs and reached for the long dresses that hung near the back. "Where's my little munchkin?" She sat on the carpet. Cal heard Lewis giggle. Gillian must have spotted their boy hiding from the different angle. Cal hadn't notice him disappear. Too absorbed. Had Gillian seen what was in his hand? Because she hadn't said anything. And why did it feel a bit like he could be busted for reading the letter? It was for him. From her to him. It was his.

Gillian was asking Lewis what had happened to her shoes. He gave her a shrug and tried climbing into her lap. She fended him off gently, directing him to put her shoes back where they belonged. Cal watched them, watched the gentle way Gillian was with her child, watched the way Lewis responded, attentive to his mother and obedient. He was staring. Then he was busted for staring. Gillian gave him a smile. Her nose was red from her cold and she looked tired but still, she was beautiful and he loved her. And damn did she love him.

"Are you ok?" Her voice was soft, a little croaky.

"Yeah."

"And you're sitting in the closet because?"

"I'm not ready to come out of it yet."

She gave a slight smile, wasn't entirely sure he was joking. That could be taken in quite a literal way. And he was slumped there, like he was suddenly unable to move. Still not a hundred percent. His first day back at work was tomorrow. It suddenly felt a little daunting. Gillian scooted closer to him, reaching to place a hand on his knee. "What's that?" She inclined her head.

Cal pushed it towards her. "You tell me."

She took it, glanced at it, looked up at him, knowledge registering in her eyes. "Where was this?" She asked good-naturedly.

Cal pointed up. "Stashed away."

"Hm," Gillian mused. "Not framed somewhere, I note."

Cal gave a slight smile. Now why hadn't he thought of that? No seriously, why hadn't he? Was he... did he not completely love the letter she had written him? Why not? What was wrong with him? It was beautiful and amazing and...

"Read it to me," he requested softly.

Gillian raised an eyebrow slightly. "You didn't read it?"

"Haven't got my glasses," he supplied lamely.

"Want me to get them for you?"

"Or you could read it to me," Cal suggested again, encouraging her to take it. She did.

Gillian glanced down at the page in her hand. Was she embarrassed? Cal watched her face, searching. This could be interesting. There was nothing in there she should be ashamed of. It was beautiful and sweet and he realised suddenly she had given it to him on their honeymoon. It was her confession, her vows. He remembered. She had written it after they had gotten married, but before they had reached the Caribbean and she had saved it for that last day, before they had had to pack and come home.

"_Dear Calvin_," Gillian started. She stopped and cleared her throat. She didn't look up at him but seemed to hesitate just a little. She lowered her wrist so the page was resting against her leg and brushed hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"_Believe it or not, but I never used to believe in soul mates. I always thought we could only really do the best we could, find someone it would be possible to spend the rest of your life with or, at least, a big chunk of it, scrape through and survive. Tolerate. Settle. I believe in love, you know that, but to think there could be someone out there, in a population of billions, who was your perfect match... the idea is quite frankly mind boggling. Imagine my surprise when I found you. My needle in a haystack._

_I don't know if we're soul mates or not but I know that I've never loved anybody else like I love you. I've never felt more in sync with someone, more in awe, more worshipped and worthy. I've never found anyone else so infuriating, so challenging, so intelligent, so sweet and kind. I've never wanted to kiss someone all the time before. I didn't know love could feel like this._

_So you're my husband now and that is truly amazing. I doubt life will be sweet smelling roses from here on out but maybe the occasional thorn won't hurt as bad with you by my side. I know we'll patch up any wounds together. We've already been through a lot; the best friend I've ever known. Whatever life throws our way I know we'll make it through._

_I love you Cal. I'm so glad you love me too."_

Gillian looked up at him when she finished. Cal watched her for a moment, his heart feeling warm and full. "I do love you Gill."

"I know," she smiled.

**PJ**

_AN: Couldn't leave it on a weird uneven number like 149 could I? You can thank Laukie for a very polite PM requesting to know what the honeymoon letter said (I hope you find this chapter)._

_To all those who review as guests. A massive thank you from my entire heart. I don't get to respond to you each personally and thank you for your wonderful comments and support. I love you guys just as much. xxx_

_Till next time..._

_PS hi my little aussie clarebear. Have you read my fic 'Season Four'? It might be something you're looking for._


	151. Chapter 151

_AN: This is for deenikn8. It's perhaps not entirely what you requested, but I hope it's enough anyway._

**PJ**

Gillian positioned herself at the restaurant table on Cal's right, carefully within shin kicking distance if the need should arise (she angled her foot carefully once they were settled to make sure, accidentally giving his knee a little nudge, which made him look over at her, brilliant blue eyes in the light overhead and her breath stuttered a little. Self inflicted). Emily sat opposite her and Ajay was on Gillian's right, dressed tidily in dark wash jeans a light blue button down shirt. The food was nice but conversation amongst the four of them was a little strange in the beginning; strained and unsure. Gillian and Emily carried most of it for much of the evening, both trying to encourage their men to get involved, contribute. It was kind of amusing; a weird opportunity for bonding for the two women.

To his credit, Cal wasn't completely antagonistic with Ajay, like he had promised, but he wasn't being helpful either. He was happy to talk to Emily and Gillian but when it came to the younger man, he was still giving off that over-protective, slightly hostile father vibe. Gillian didn't have to kick him in the shins though. She considered that a small victory. (There might have been some light leg caressing though.)

"You want anotha drink?" Cal asked her, leaning in a little, like he was sharing a secret. The others had wine. Gillian had fruit flavoured sparkling water. Wine would have been nice too, but she was not complaining, not complaining. She could stay sober while she was pregnant. Easy sacrifice. The reduced amount of coffee was more of a problem. Especially in the mornings; she got incredibly irritable.

"No, thank you, I'm fine with what I have. But I do need the bathroom," she excused herself from the table. Cal gave her an apologetic expression (for the wine) and brushed a hand against her thigh (because he was even more tactile now that she was pregnant) before she could relocate her napkin and stand.

"I'll go with you," Emily volunteered, pushing back her chair as well. As they walked away from the table Gillian had a fleeting thought about leaving Cal alone with Ajay. But surely Emily would have thought of that too? Which meant she had possibly just instigated this on purpose. Which really was very sneaky of her. And funny. Or potentially disastrous. Nah, Cal was on his best behaviour, and Gillian actually trusted him to maintain that, so... yep, it would be interesting to see what happened in their absence.

No queue for the bathroom, luckily. Sometimes being pregnant snuck up on Gillian. She wasn't used to her boobs being bigger (or so tender), or how the smell of her own deodorant made her nauseous (had to switch that out quickly), or that she needed to pee a lot more often (sometimes it felt without anyway warning). Sometimes she forgot to go before they left the house, then got desperate, and had to put up with Cal teasing her when she made him pull over before they even got to work.

The etiquette for bathroom conversation was always slightly awkward, but doubly so with her husband's daughter. When Gillian was younger, she didn't think much of making conversation with her girlfriends at the mirror while reapplying make up or fixing hair. But when it came to merely washing hands afterwards... well, what did she say in that moment? How was she going to make small talk? Talk about the meal while in the bathroom? Weird. She was usually much better at this.

"Dad's doing pretty well with behaving himself," Emily noted lightly.

Gillian gave her reflection a smile. "Yeah he's not doing too badly."

"Did you give him the speech?"

"The speech?" Gillian repeated softly, unsure, turning off the tap.

"When I was a girl, Mom and Dad used to give me the speech when we went out somewhere. About using my manners and being on my best behaviour. Especially if it was some work thing of theirs."

Gillian smiled again and reached for a towel for her hands. "Maybe."

Emily gave a pleased grin. Her mouth twisted a little as Gillian watched, and she guessed the younger woman had something else she wanted to say, but perhaps wasn't sure about actually voicing it. Gillian made a point to dry under her wedding band, slipping it up her finger and then back into place. Emily dried her hands quickly and leaned against the sink waiting. "Gill?"

"Yeah?" Gillian tossed her paper towels to the trash, now damp, and turned back to face Emily.

"I appreciate that."

Gillian gave a slight smile, a 'not a big deal shrug'.

"You're really good for Dad."

The smile got a little wider; a flare of her heart.

"Have I ever told you that?"

Gillian gave a little nonchalant lean of her head. She was giving Emily an out, in case she didn't want to take this conversation too far. Yes she had known the girl for a long time, but that didn't mean they were close. Close but not overly close. Acquaintances to start, maybe, tentatively, friends now, but not anything more than that.

"I should have," Emily said forcefully, meeting Gillian's eye. "Sooner. So that you knew you were welcome?" She winced slightly. "That's not what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Gillian cut in. This was Emily giving her approval. Gillian didn't realise it had mattered to either of them before. It had just been assumed. "And it's ok. Don't worry about it. We're ok."

Emily gave a grateful nod, looked down at her shoes for a second. There was more, Gillian could tell, so she waited a second longer than necessary, letting Emily find her way. She pushed her wedding ring further back on her finger so it didn't slip past the knuckle; equal parts conscientious and something to do with her hands. She figured Emily was going to ask her opinion on Ajay, so she was surprised when Emily said, "You've been a really cool friend to me Gillian. Over the years. And I'm not sure if I ever said it but, I really appreciated that I could come and talk to you whenever I needed to."

Gillian swallowed the lump in her throat suddenly threatening to explode in tears.

Emily gave an awkward twist to her lips, looked up and met Gillian's eyes with a slightly rueful expression. "This probably isn't the best place to have this kind of conversation but I wasn't sure if I could get you alone before you left and I didn't want it to go unsaid. Especially now you and Dad are having a baby, which is so awesome. I just wanted you to know... I think you'll be a really great mother."

Ok. Tears. Tears and choked up feelings and hugs. Hugs now.

Gillian stepped forward and pulled Emily against her. The younger woman's shoulders still felt bony like the small teenager Gillian had once known. Emily hugged her back, a little awkward, just a little bit of reservation. Gillian reined her emotions in, knowing they were a product of the pregnancy hormones just as much as they were from the words Emily had uttered. She let the younger woman go relatively quickly; didn't want to let the contact go on too long so it was weird. Careful steps forward. "Thank you. That really means a lot to me that you think that."

Emily gave a shrug, an easy smile. "It's the truth."


	152. Chapter 152

Gillian was hot. Her skin was scorching and sticky and damp with sweat. It was dark in the bedroom, so Cal couldn't see, but he was still picturing her in his head with her eyes closed in pleasure as he slid his hand around her slim waist and up, under the t-shirt of his she was wearing, to the edge of her ribs, feeling, sensing, the swell of her breast just out of reach. She canted in towards him, unbalanced lying on her side on the mattress but her shoulder only met the hard edge of his chest; he was purposefully keeping his hips away from her. Just like he was purposefully not reaching higher with his fingers. That would be asking for trouble. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to behave himself if he touched her any further north than when his hand was right now, or if she touched him any further south than where her hand was grazing against his belly button. Even that was seriously bordering on too much.

Her mouth was hot and wet against him too, but markedly hotter and wetter, and her tongue was doing some serious damage. Her fingernails scratched at his skin and her chest now inadvertently brushed against his arm periodically as she kind of... swayed closer to him, pulled a little away, undulated. Shit. Cal wanted to, really, really wanted to, push her back against the pillows and take her pyjamas off (his pyjamas on her). He wanted to touch her all over, to trail his lips over every inch of her skin; map her body, memorise it. He wanted her to writhe in the agony of pure pleasure. He wanted to show her how incredible he would make her feel. He wanted her to feel beyond amazing. He was practically dying to have that chance. But she had asked him to wait. A while ago. So he was waiting. But he really wasn't sure how long he could hold out, how much longer they could push this before he lost his self-control. It was Gillian. He had been thinking about this for a long time. So he broke away from her mouth with a groan, because oh, it hurt a little to do that, and retracted his hand, tried to put some distance between them; his heart was pounding.

Gillian gave a little huff of air, her fingers clutching at him, her hand coming up to his jaw. "Cal," she murmured and he could hear the desperate strain to her tone. She sounded about as frustrated as he felt.

Cal inched back across the pillow towards her, bumping her mouth before shifting his lips to connect with hers again. He let his hand creep back to her waist, tucking a finger into the waistband of his pyjamas, feeling the edge of her underwear beneath the tip of his digit. "Do you want to?" He asked breathlessly, pushing against the mattress with his toes, losing his grip on his desperation. So much for space. So much for ending it.

"Yes," Gillian muttered but as Cal reached for her mouth again, as that finger slipped under the elastic of her underwear. She slid her tongue along his but she pushed a hand against his chest. "But..."

Cal didn't hear the rest. He groaned again, shoved her away from him while he fell onto his back. They were silent while they both heaved in air. Cal flicked back the cover to stick a leg out, needing to cool down. He seriously needed to.

"I'm sorry," Gillian tried, her voice sounding small even though she was about a foot away.

"Gill," Cal started.

"I don't mean to be a tease."

Cal felt his heart rate start to slow a little. Then Gillian sat up. "I should go," she tried and Cal's heart rate went up again. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back to the mattress so abruptly she actually bounced. He thought he could make out the surprised expression on her face. He pictured her naked again, tried to force the image out. That was not helping.

"Don't leave," he told her gruffly, leaning over her a little, making sure she was going to stay put.

"But it's not fair."

"Gill it is what it is. That doesn't mean I want you to go. I can keep my hands to myself."

He thinks he can. He hopes. He invited her to stay over. He doesn't want to ruin it.

"Cal, I really didn't mean..."

"I know," Cal cut her off. "Look I know all right? I know you need time and I want you to have it." To be in the right place, the right frame of mind before they start having sex. Because he knows Gillian and she wouldn't do this to him without thinking she had a good reason.

"Maybe we should cool it for a while?"

"No thanks," he gruffs.

"No?" Gillian repeats, her voice rising a little.

"I get that you want time Gill, but that doesn't mean I don't want us to stop movin' forward a little. I don't want to not see you." Or be able to touch her. Or fantasise about touching her. Just because her divorce was fresh in her mind. Just because Alec had really fucked with her head, about how she felt about herself and how she felt being with another guy, or in a relationship, didn't mean Cal couldn't be patient, waiting for that to subside, waiting for her to work through it. It wasn't like he wanted her to carry over that crap when she was with him. He wanted that about as much as he wanted to bring his crap from his marriage with Zoe into this relationship with Gillian. But he'd had how many years to get over his ex? And Gillian had had how long since she had even separated from Alec?

He had not been patient in the past, with other women. But damn it, he was going to be this time. He was.

"Am I being completely unfair?" Gillian sighed.

Cal dropped himself back to the mattress, his heart rate going down once more; calming down again. "No," he tried.

"Liar," Gillian noted gently.

"Not that, Gill. I know you're not tryin' to wind me up, but I am a guy and... you're incredibly beautiful and your kisses are amazin' and your body," he had to take a breath, remind himself he was calming down. He wasn't sure he'd ever told her that before. He felt Gillian shift next to him, turning over onto her side to face him. He took a calmly breath, quiet, so she would hopefully not notice. She waited for him to continue and again, he forced himself to _use his words_. "I'm not gonna pretend that I don't want to. I can't say that I'm not a little bit frustrated. I _want_ you."

Gillian gave a little gasp. "I'm glad that you do," she practically whispered.

Cal gave a grunt. "Of course I do." And yes it was just about torture to not have sex with her, especially when they got so close, like tonight, which was probably the closest yet, but he kept telling himself that it wouldn't be forever. Gillian was good at flirting but she was not a tease, she was not messing with him on purpose. But he did rely on her to tell him when it was time to stop, because he was almost certainly not in the right frame of mind to be able to do that.

"I want you too, Cal," Gillian said softly. "And I feel like I'm nearly there." She sounded so much calmer than he felt; he was still buzzing.

"That's good."

Silence again.

"Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"You're really ok with waiting?"

Cal gave another grunt, wanting to say 'no' but telling himself to shut up. "Yes," he groused.

"Ok."

Silence. She didn't believe him. And he didn't want her to think that sex was everything. It wasn't. It was. But it wasn't. They were connecting on a deeper level and he actually liked it. He liked being close to her. Sex wasn't everything. But maybe fooling around like they were was tempting fate.

"I'm not fifteen anymore. I can wait."

But oh it was fucking torture.

Gillian gave a soft laugh. Her hand came out to his face, caressing down his jaw. "You have no idea," she started. "Thank you."

Cal turned his head and kissed her palm. "It seems it will be worth it in the end."

Gillian laughed again but didn't withdraw her hand.

"Right?" Cal pressed.

"Right," Gillian agreed, still laughing.

"Oh yeah?" Cal turned over, trapping her hand between his cheek and the pillow. "What are you suggestin'?" He teased and stretched his neck forward to kiss her again.

Gillian's mouth was warm and smiling against his. She snaked her free hand down his arm, to his waist, around into the small of his back. She scooted herself a little closer again. But then she withdrew her mouth, pulled her head back to get words out. "Is this ok?" She asked softly.

"Uh huh," Cal nodded, sliding his hand in a similar move to her waist. She was still warm, but it seemed she really had calmed down; the fiery tinge to her skin was gone again. This was how they had started this night out, just lying together in his bed, goodnight kisses and a light embrace, and it had quickly escalated. Cal believed her when she said she was nearly ready; he could tell in the way her walls had come down. She let him touch her a lot more. She was staying over. Her kisses had less restraint. There must be residual doubts in her head that made her withdraw at certain points. A few weeks ago she wasn't ok with his hands on her bare skin. Now she was practically letting him feel her up. That was a good sign. That was moving forward. And he could take that, it was enough.

Gillian shifted closer still, a sudden bump of her hips against his and then she froze. "Oh."

"Oh," Cal repeated. That was too close. Now she could feel exactly how turned on he was. And he had been trying so hard to keep that from her. Pun unintentional.

"Cal," she started and really, there was such a thing as too much talking.

"You sleep ova there," Cal told her, giving her a little shove. "And I'll sleep ova here. And it'll be fine." He paused, while they resettle, more distance between them physically, but feeling closer together nonetheless. "It'll be fine."

When Cal woke in the night to turn over, Gillian was at his side, her arm over his diaphragm and her face in his neck. With a twinge of his stomach, he turned into her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. This was exactly why he wasn't going to kick her out.


	153. Chapter 153

Cal sat on his couch, turned with his back against the arm, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed over at the ankles, bare feet sticking out from beneath slightly too long jeans. He could never find the right size; if they were right around the hips, then they were too long in the leg. He wasn't even particularly big so really, it shouldn't be such a pain in the ass. It wasn't a pain in the ass, but he did like to grumble about it sometimes. The house was quiet so there was no one to grumble too. He talked to his daughter that morning and had a restless day trying to entertain himself. It has never been true that he needed for there to be people around, it's just that he has never truly been alone. From university he was recruited into intelligence and that was never a solo game. When he escaped to hide in America he practically fell into Zoe's lap and since then, there has always been Emily. But now Emily was gone and he was living alone because he was having a hard time... not forgiving his girlfriend, but maybe himself? He was, at least, having a hard time being with her, in a way that wasn't... well they used to be incredibly great together and now they weren't and he knew that was mostly to do with him. So he had called for space. And space was what she was giving him.

So it wasn't that he didn't like to be alone, he lamented about wanting it often enough. It was that he just wasn't used to it. He couldn't let the silent stillness of the house settle over him with ease. He was constantly listening out for signs of someone else. And when there were no text messages he kept checking his phone because he thought there should be. There weren't any though. It wasn't a punishment, he was sure of that, but maybe Gillian was proving a point? Maybe she was... Nah she didn't tend to play those games. She hadn't text him today, because he had asked her for space. She was waiting for him to go to her, when he was ready. He wasn't sure he was ready just yet, but he did miss her. It was strange now to go an entire day without talking to her at all. And what had seemed like a relatively good idea that morning when he woke up, had now morphed into a sense of loneliness. And Cal didn't do loneliness.

It made him feel uncomfortable.

**PJ**

Gillian was half naked when the phone rang so it startled her badly. She hurriedly threw a shirt over her head and was still adjusting it over her breast when she answered. It was late and a phone call at this time quite possibly meant bad news, so she was a little breathless when she finally answered; surprised and anxious.

"What are _you_ doin' luv?" His tone leered.

"Cal?" Her heart started to pound harder.

"Who else calls you luv?"

"Uh," Gillian tugged on her shirt one last time and stood still, listening. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah why wouldn't it be?" He responded conversationally.

"I don't know. I don't hear from you all day and then you ring at nine-thirty..."

"Was I meant to ring you durin' the day?"

Gillian was silent for a moment. "No," she tried. It wasn't like they had specified any rules for this 'space'. It wasn't like she had been _expecting_ a call. "You didn't have to. I guess you didn't want to."

"I wanted to," Cal responded immediately.

"You could have," Gillian told him gently. She wanted him to know, that he could call, whenever, he could come over if he wanted to; she was waiting on him. She wanted him to. No pressure, but she was waiting... Uh, god, she wanted him. Having no expectations was the only way she was going to get through this 'space'. She only hoped it didn't last too long. Her patience did have an end.

"What are you doin'?" Cal changed the subject.

Gillian supposed that it was enough that he was calling now. She could take that. It was a good sign. "Actually I was getting ready for bed."

"So early?"

"I wasn't going to go to sleep."

"Oh."

"I was going to read."

"Want me to go?"

"No!" Gillian replied with a bit more force than she intended. No pressure. Yeah right. She took a deep breath. "No," she repeated softer. "I'm glad you called." She would rather talk to him on the phone than read. It had been a long and strange day alone and without any contact. It had been six months since _those six months _and just a few weeks since their 'space' had begun. "Tell me about your day," she requested heading towards the bathroom. "While I brush my teeth."

Cal gave a chuckle. "Uh all right then. I woke up at eight and had breakfast." He paused, wondering if this was what Gillian meant. She didn't respond and he could hear water running in the background. When she didn't interrupt or redirect, he went on, "Talked to Em for a bit."

"How is she?" Gillian cut in.

"Good," Cal responded optimistically. "She says to say hi."

Gillian gave a grunt and it was then that Cal realised he can hear the faint but vigorous swish of a brush against teeth. She really was brushing her teeth but how had she managed to muffle her noises while still listening to him? He was obviously not on speaker. He listened for a moment, thinking about her teeth, her mouth, about how much he liked them and the taste of her, how he wanted to trace his tongue over... and then he remembered he was meant to be talking.

"And uh, school is good," Cal forced himself to go on.

"And then what?" Gillian prompted, refocusing him.

"I read the pape-a while I watched the news."

Gillian laughed a little. And Cal smiled to himself but she didn't say anything else and he listened for more clues as to what she was doing. Maybe she had muted the call?

"Had a showa, went to work."

"You went to work?" Gillian interrupted again.

"Yeah."

"Cal, it's the weekend."

"But it's not Sunday," Cal teased.

Gillian gave a 'hm' but she wasn't agreeing with him, she was disapproving. Cal heard the definitive click of a light switch. "Finished with teeth?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Now what?"

"Bed," Gillian told him firmly.

"Want me to go?'

"No Cal."

Cal suddenly felt compelled to get into his own bed. He hesitated for a second and then got up from the couch, shuffling across his living room, bare feet and jeans scuffing against the carpet. "What are you wearin'?"

"Pyjamas," Gillian answered, tucking her feet under the covers, resisting the urge to tell him 'nothing' or getting him to guess.

Cal 'hmmed' back at her. "Sounds delightful. Tell me about your day. I'm gonna brush my teeth."

Gillian smiled; delighted in a way that he was copying her. He was across town but for once felt close. The conversation was completely inane, but it felt good, normal and easy. Cal was noisy with his teeth brushing, not at all trying to spare her from hearing it and she could picture him at the sink, the stance, the way he held his brush, even the expression on his face while he scrubbed. She smiled to herself and told him about waking, lazing in bed for a couple of hours, having coffee on the window seat and watching the birds in the yard, showering, dressing, babysitting her brother's children. Her day was about as interesting as his but it didn't seem to matter. When he picked the phone up again he was 'uh huhing' and asking follow up questions.

It felt like a phone date now. And it was going well.

"What did you go in to work for?" Gillian asked. "Tell me you didn't actually work."

"Well," Cal hedged. "Hang on, I'm takin' my shirt off."

Gillian's stomach seized and heat flooded her cheeks. He was back in a second but the affect of that comment lasted a little longer. So did the images.

"I didn't work, work. Just... you know me. I like to mess around."

He meant, constantly chip away at research or notes or lectures or tweaking reports, papers, reorganising his books. Something. He always found something to do.

Gillian found she couldn't respond; she was barely listening. She kept thinking about him with no shirt on. And in bed. Which probably meant no pants either. Because Cal didn't sleep in much and she knew this about him because she slept with him, or used to sleep with him, or... she was sleeping with him. Sometimes. Ugh she hated it when it was complicated. He also slept on the right, which is where she had taken to sleeping since he left because... well at first it was because the sheets smelt like him and then it just seemed like she was closer to him when she slept there, sad as that was to admit. When he was back, she retreated. When he was gone, she advanced again. That was probably a good analogy for where they were right now, constantly shifting back and forth, unable to find a good place to settle.

"So then I stuck down the contents of Loke-a's desk with supa glue."

"Tell me you're kidding," Gillian asked sharply.

"I knew you weren't listenin'," Cal chided softly.

"I was," Gillian hedged.

"Lie-a, lie-a," Cal sign-songed at her and Gillian had to consider herself grateful he hadn't got mad and hung up on her. He was in a good mood. They were in a good place, she had to remind herself. Not great, but good, better. Getting better. It felt. She hoped. "Gillian?"

"Yes?" She asked softly.

"What are you doin' tomorrow?"

"I don't know yet."

"Can I see you?"

Her stomach flipped again. "Yes," she answered and knew she sounded breathless, probably a little desperate. Well so what? She wanted him and she wanted him to know that. He knew that before and he didn't run a million miles.

"Can I come ova?"

He wasn't running now.

"Yes," she just about whispered, heart starting to pound a little.

Cal gave a little grunt. "All right." He paused and Gillian realised he had been nervous in asking. "Then I'll leave you to read."

Gillian found herself agreeing. But what she was going to do was snuggle down in bed and close her eyes and pretend he was there with her. She didn't like having 'space' but she had to concede, since Cal had asked for it, he had actually started moving closer to her again, so maybe it wasn't entirely a bad thing. Maybe she just had to wait a little bit longer. It had only been two weeks after all.

"Goodnight Gill."

"Night Cal."

_I love you._


	154. Chapter 154

Gillian wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, but they had become friends. Good friends too. Not the kind of friends that exchanged a random text twice a year or four lined emails asking how the other was and sharing no details about their own lives. Cal sent long, sometimes random anecdotes over the internet. He text almost every week, if Gillian didn't end up texting him first. And the thing was, Gillian did the same. At first, she had been the one to initiate contact. She had questions and she emailed him fairly frequently with them, asking about his science, inadvertently asking about his life, finding out about his academic history, then little tid-bits of his past. He would call into see her, to ask for her 'help'. After that, he started texting her. And back and forth and such and then he had asked her to go into business with him. They were working out the details. They were working on it.

Sometimes, she really couldn't believe it.

They were still getting closer; it probably helped that they were spending so much time together. But here she was staring at the message on her phone in her hand feeling like she had to do something. Of course she had to do something. She couldn't not do something. He was her friend and he had reached out, confessed. And she was a psychologist, she was practically hard wired to at least try and help. So she reached for her car keys.

She wasn't entirely sure where he'd go. 'Drinking in a pub' didn't leave a lot of clues (and if she asked him where she suspected he wouldn't tell her exactly where anyway), but she had got to know him and there were a few places they'd gone for a drink for before. Or had lunch to discuss business. So she tried the place closest to home, his home, but she struck out. She worked her way further across the city and found him at the third place she tried; an English pub. Too obvious.

She spotted him at the bar as she came him, sitting alone, a glass in front of him, his head resting in his hand. The back of his shirt was untucked and as she got closer she could see it was badly rumpled, like the day had been hard on it, on him. A wash of sympathy came over Gillian as she stood at his side. Sometimes, Cal seemed huge, larger than life, but she was starting to see, that sometimes, he was also very small, vulnerable.

"What are you drinking?"

He startled so hard he just about fell off his bar stool. He looked up at her, right hand gripping the bar so tightly his fingers were losing blood. His pale blue eyes were shocked, but swimming; so he'd already drowned his sorrows pretty thoroughly already. "What are you doin' here?" He muttered.

Gillian signalled the bar tender. "Can I get one of those?" She pointed to his drink, her tone and demeanour polite. The bar tender nodded and placed a napkin down in front of her. She took the seat next to Cal, crossing her ankles to keep firm and turned her head to look at him. He had re-adopted his slouch and stared up at her with bleary eyes; eyes that still studied her. She didn't say anything, waiting for him to maybe start. He straightened up a little, reached for his drink and downed it in a tight mouthful.

"Again," he told the bar tender when he approached with Gillian's drink. She picked it up her own, swallowed it back and asked for another too. The bourbon burned her throat and warmed her all the way down to her toes. She felt a slight sweat break out on her chest and was glad for the button up shirt she was wearing so no one would notice. She turned her head to look at Cal again and found a stunned surprise expression there. She didn't respond to that, just felt the way her skin prickled and she was too warm and oh, damn, she hadn't eaten, so that generous nip was going to go straight to her head. She promised herself she wouldn't drive home, no matter how sober she thought she might feel.

Their drinks arrived together, but this time Cal toyed with his glass. Gillian wondered how long he had been here. She hadn't had the chance to ask someone in her haste to get to his side. She wanted to push him to talk, but Cal would only resist that; he got around to talking about things in his own time and she had already learnt not to insist.

Gillian figured the alcohol had reached her head because she had the sudden urge to hug him. She had the urge to hug him and consol him and sway all over him and make him tell her what was wrong. She wanted to make whatever was bothering him better. She wanted to fix. She should order some food. She had come straight from her office and hadn't eaten since lunch. She could smell cigarettes. She knew Cal used to smoke. He told her things like that as if it were casual conversation, instead of slowly baring his soul.

"My day was completely shit ass. How was yours?" Cal spoke up.

"It was fine," Gillian answered and leapt all over the opening. "I'm sorry your day was so bad. Wanna tell me about it?"

"No," Cal grouched. He looked over at her. "You don't have to sit here bein' all..." He waved a hand as if he couldn't find the words, or maybe just didn't have the right ones to describe how they were. They were friends. Good friends and tentative business partners. But did that warrant her babysitting him? Probably not. Maybe? Was she babysitting? Or was she there because she wanted to be? _Wanted_ to be.

Gillian reached out a hand to place on his arm. He looked down at it for a second, then back up to the coloured bottles lining the bar. "I want to hear about your day," she told him firmly.

Cal looked over at her again, his blue eyes intense, a borderline glare. "And if I don't feel much like talkin'?"

"Then we can just sit here," Gillian withdrew her hand. She raised her glass to him, like a toast. "And just drink for a bit."

"And then?" Cal challenged.

"And then I'm going to put you in a cab and send you home. And then I'm going to get home."

Cal weighed up her words. "All right luv." His phone started to ring and it startled them both. Gillian saw the bartender eye them up from the corner. Cal took a mouthful of bourbon before pulling his phone from the inside pocket of his sports coat. He looked at the screen, declined the call, and put the phone back.

"Who was that?" Gillian asked before she realised she was prying again and could stop it.

"Zoe," Cal answered.

"She's probably wondering where you are," Gillian supplied.

"Probably," Cal agreed glumly.

"Everything ok there?" Gillian pressed.

Cal gave a shrug. Gillian gave herself a frown. Cal gave a great sigh. "Fuck Gillian why does it have to be so fuckin' hard sometimes?" He turned to her with a wince.

"That's life," Gillian tried. "Life is hard."

Cal gave a short 'hmph'. "Love is hard."

"That too," Gillian agreed, thinking about her own husband and the fights they kept having over every little thing it seemed. Even when she tried really hard to not let him get under her skin, or not let all those nuances get under her skin, they did anyway and she would snap eventually. And he'd yell and then she'd yell and then she'd get upset and he'd be sleeping on the couch and they were trying to make a baby. Trying so hard. She took a large mouthful of her bourbon, realising she felt pretty shit herself now.

"What's your problem then?"

Gillian looked over at him. His blue eyes were intense in another way now, like a hawk with a meek little mouse in its sights and Gillian caved. "I can't get pregnant."

Cal glared at her. "Are you tryin' hard enough?"

Gillian gave him a disgusted expression. "Yes," she grumped. Well... No, yes, of course they were trying hard enough. What did he mean by that? Making a baby was complicated. Didn't he know that? Typical guy.

"How long you been tryin'?"

"A year," Gillian admitted. Oh wow, had it been that long?

"Maybe there's somethin' wrong with Alec's swimma's?"

Gillian cringed a little. Alec would be so unimpressed with her for having this conversation with Cal, with anyone, but... She turned to look at her friend. He was gazing at her steadily, his lids half closed, like he was asleep, and she just wanted to hug him. She just wanted to hug him. He looked like a teddy bear, all harmless and soft. She wanted him to hug her. "Maybe," she admitted. She realised belatedly he immediately thought there was something wrong with Alec, that the blame lay with him, not her.

Cal gave a purposeful shrug. "Zoe thinks what we're doin' is a giant waste of time."

"What we're doing?" Gillian asked, confused. Did he mean, now? Or...

"The Group," Cal clarified.

Gillian was not at all surprised to hear that. "Time?" She queried anyway.

"Time," Cal agreed. "Too much time tryin' to work on the Group and not enough time doin' somethin' else that could be..." He drifted off. "I don't actually know what her argument is."

"She didn't tell you?"

"No, it's just that I wasn't listenin'."

Gillian laughed and Cal gave her a slight grin. "Maybe you should listen," Gillian suggested.

"That's what Zoe tells me too."

Gillian laughed again and Cal's grin became a little more defined. He sipped his bourbon and shifted on his bar stool, so his body was turned towards her almost completely, a knee brushed against her thigh and his head came to rest on his upturned hand again. He studied her. "You eva feel like packin' it in?"

"The Group?" Gillian queried with surprise. "You want to give up already?"

Cal waved a hand in dismissal. "Not that. I mean, just... all of it. You eva get to the point where you just... don't want any of it anymore?"

Not sure what he was asking, Gillian thought again about fighting with her husband, trying for a baby, the mortgage on the house, essentially working two jobs to keep an income while she also worked with Cal on launching the Lightman Group, how much Alec fought her on starting the business in the first place, how hard she had had to argue, convince him; he was a money worrier. And if she could just pack it all in and escape to Italy for a few months? Yeah that sounded pretty good about now.

"Want to run away with me?" Gillian asked lightly.

"Love to."

"Hm," Gillian agreed warmly.

"Can't," Cal added.

"Hm," Gillian agreed again, her tone tighter.

They were silent for a moment. Gillian was aware of Cal's eyes on her. She lifted her drink again, halving the contents. She almost forgot she was in a bar. She couldn't really hear the other patrons, and she certainly couldn't see them. Everything it seemed, boiled down to Cal these days. Alec threw that at her once in the heat of a really good argument and she had been so stunned by the stupid audacity she hadn't responded. But maybe he was right somehow?

"Come on Cal," Gillian looked over at him. "Drink your drink. I'll take you home."

"No offense," Cal objected immediately. "But you've been drinkin'."

Gillian gave him a rueful expression. "Then I shall call for a ride." She finished her drink and swung around on her bar stool, her leg knocking into his again. She jumped down to the ground, finding herself to be a lot steadier than she thought she was going to be, even on heels, and dug through her purse for her phone. She went outside into the cool evening air and called her husband.

**PJ**

Cal stumbled out after Gillian a beat later and he found her staring up at the sky. He stopped at her shoulder and looked up and he swore he could feel the earth tilting on its axis. "What are we lookin' at?" He stage whispered.

Gillian sighed. "I don't know." She sounded far too sober.

"How come you're not pissed right now?"

Gillian turned her head to him, studied him in that quietly measured way he actually enjoyed; he did not feel like he was being judged when she looked at him like that. It felt like she was really seeing him. "You probably drank more than I did."

"Yeah but law of averages and such and you're a woman."

Gillian gave a light laugh, musical against the night. She shook her head and moved a few steps away so their shoulders were no longer touching every so often. "Still had a lot less to drink than you."

Cal gave a shrug, felt it ripple through him several times like water at a lake's edge. Traffic passed intermittently and he wasn't sure how long the silence went on but Gillian was close to him again and she was touching his wrist. "Cal?" She asked gently. "Are you really ok?"

"Yeah I think so."

"And so you were drinking in a bar alone because?"

"I had a bad day."

Gillian paused and Cal could just about feel her vibrate with wanting to say more. She lasted five seconds before adding, "That's not really a constructive way to cope with a bad day."

"Yeah I know luv," Cal pulled his wrist free from her fingers. He rubbed his eyes with his hand and looked at her again. She was slightly fuzzy. "Combination of quite a few things is all."

"Want to talk about it?" She asked again.

Cal shook his head, felt a bit like he might fall down if his brain didn't stop swimming in his skull. "I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

They had a business lunch scheduled. Gillian was still working at her regular job but she was pulling some crazy hours with Cal too, to keep up her half of the Group. The Group that was a shoe box and his kitchen table right now. It all felt too hard, too much... Just everything was so shitty at the moment. Emily was his shining light and Gillian his shining knight. Zoe kept saying she would help him but she was always so damn busy and he felt sometimes like he was drowning and he couldn't focus.

"Are we doin' the right thing?"

"Right now?"

Cal waved his hand at her in frustration. "The Group."

"Yes Cal. I've told you. You just need to be patient. It's early days and it will take some time before..."

Cal waved the hand once more to cut her off and she fell silent. He looked over at her again and she was watching him, the remnants of earnest still on her face. When she had text to ask what he was doing and he had responded that he was at a pub, the last thing he expected was for her to show up. But he had felt better for her company, and he was at least going home with most of the money still in his wallet and standing up right. Sometimes, he had a hard time with coping.

Headlights pulled into the parking area and Gillian's attention moved from Cal to the vehicle. She gave a smile and stepped forward. "Come on," she coaxed. "Don't make me drag you."

Cal followed after her easily enough but the door handle seemed to move out of the way of his hand and the seatbelt was complicated. Alec gave him a polite hello as he got in and Cal grunted a response.

They drove mostly in silence. Gillian gave directions to Cal's house and held her husband's hand. Cal slumped in the back, feeling his head throb. But surely he couldn't be starting his hang over already? Perhaps it was just the pressure of the day catching up with him.

Alec pulled up alongside the house and put the car into park. He cut the engine and Gillian told him she'd just be a minute. So she was going to walk him to the door. Cal released his seatbelt and fumbled with the door handle again. Gillian was waiting for him on the sidewalk and he glanced at her as he let the car door slam shut, realising too late that he forgot to thank Alec for the ride home. Cal moved purposefully towards his home but Gillian followed along and he eventually slowed and they stood in the middle of the path to the front door.

"So you're ok?" Gillian asked.

"Yep," Cal nodded.

"Ok," Gillian said softly and Cal could tell that she so badly wanted for him to talk to her, to tell her whatever it was that was bothering him. Zoe would ask and when he didn't answer she would just get mad and leave him alone. But Gillian niggled. She niggled and nagged and honestly? Cal _wanted_ to tell her things about him. And he just didn't understand that.

"It's the anniversary of my mutha's death," he blurted.

Gillian's surprise was clear even though Cal only had street lighting by which to see it. Then she was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry," she murmured. Her hand came to his upper arm, gave him a little rub. It was meant to be comforting but Cal still shrugged out of it.

"Was a long time ago," he muttered. Gillian didn't pry further, she didn't coddle him, she didn't try to tell him it would be ok. She just stepped forward and hugged him. She put her arms around his shoulders and gave a squeeze and then stepped back. Her face was soft and gentle, borderline patronising, but calm and sympathetic and Cal felt the urge to hug her back. Too late she had already moved away.

Gillian didn't tell him to get a good night's sleep or to rest or anything else that was usual and annoying. She told him instead that she would see him tomorrow. "Right?"

"Right," Cal agreed, confounded. She didn't pry but he wanted her to. He didn't know how else to tell her about his mother without her prompting him. "Night."

"Goodnight," Gillian offered. Her hand rubbed at his arm in farewell and she turned to walk away. Cal listened to her heels on the path for a moment before heading for the door. It opened before he got there and Zoe was a shadow in the light.

"I've been trying to call you," she said.

"Yeah I know. Sorry," Cal started. Then he drew a blank. What else was he going to say? I was avoiding you on purpose? "Just you know," he stepped up into the light, saw her face was careful. "Today," he supplied.

Zoe gave a nod and stepped back to let him in. "I know," she said and shut the door behind him. But this was the first year he hadn't come home completely plastered.

**PJ**

"Is Cal ok?" Alec asked as Gillian put her seatbelt back on.

"Yeah I think so. It was just one of those days, you know?"

"Yeah, sure," Alec agreed. "Everyone has those."

"Mm," Gillian agreed, reaching for his hand again. Some more than others, Alec should know.

"So did he call you?"

"No. I asked where he was."

Alec was silent for a moment. "And so you went to him?"

"Yeah. I'm glad I did. He was really flat."

Alec was silent again for a longer moment. "You're a good person Gill."

Gillian smiled.

**PJ**

Cal was late for their lunch date, but Gillian didn't mind too much because she just sat and answered emails while she waited. He slouched into the chair opposite her without a greeting, looking a little worse for wear, his eyes tired and wary.

"Hi," Gillian greeted him with a smile, dialled down on the enthusiasm.

"You orda-ed?"

"No I was waiting for you."

Cal gave a nod, raised his hand to signal a waiter and reached for a menu. He quickly scanned it and then closed it again. The waiter approached and they ordered. Gillian asked for a jug of water. She felt uneasy. Cal wasn't normally like this, shut off around her, but she suspected she would get used to it. Whatever it was that was bothering him, it went deep and it would come up again. That didn't matter to her too much. Everyone had their layers. She didn't bother asking if he was ok, or how he'd slept, or any of those other polite social niceties. She did think about asking how his head was but refrained from that too. Sometimes, it could all just be too much. Instead, she pulled a folder from her bag and put it down on the table in front of her, preparing to at least carry on with their business lunch at some point.

"She killed herself," Cal spoke, his voice low.

"What?" Gillian looked up alarmed. Her heart pounded suddenly.

"My mutha," Cal went on, his face dead neutral, his tone tight. He cleared his throat. "When I was a boy."

Gillian felt her lower jaw want to drop open a little and she resisted. His blue eyes bored into hers, challenging her with the information, but fragile enough to wait out her response instead of changing the subject. "I'm sorry," Gillian started. She reached over the table to put her hand over his. He didn't pull away. At least, not right away. After a moment he did, and shifted in his seat, straightening up, then slouching down again.

"She had troubles," he added.

Gillian nodded. She searched for the right thing to say but she kept drawing a blank. He must have heard it all before, a million times over and she wanted to offer something new; she wanted to be someone different for him.

"Thanks for comin' to get me last night," Cal went on after a moment's silence. He didn't quite meet her eye and she realised he was a little ashamed. "Not my finest moment."

"You were quite tame, trust me," Gillian said without thinking.

Cal met her eye and smiled slightly. "You've not seen me the otha years then."

Gillian tempted a smile of her own, taking her cue from him. "Next year I'll try to get to you before you get to the bar then."

Cal's smile slowly went a little wider, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. He carried a world of hurt with him. She wondered just how young he had been when his mother died. Any child would have been horrifically scarred by something like that. "We'll see," Cal said lightly.

Gillian smirked a little. "Challenge accepted." And then she opened the file in front of her.


	155. Chapter 155

Gillian was dozing. It was kind of early when she went to bed but she was so tired and it got dark before dinner time now, so that helped. Her breasts were still sensitive but the nausea that had haunted her for just over a month was going, gone, and aside from what felt like perpetual exhaustion, she was reaching the point where she was starting to enjoy being pregnant. She was pregnant! And it was really incredible.

Gillian stretched out a leg in the bed, getting just a little bit more comfortable, keeping her eyes closed and her body relaxed. She heard her husband come into the room softly, and figured it was his bed time now. She felt the dip of the mattress as he climbed up next to her. "Are you awake?" He barely whispered.

"Hmm," Gillian hummed. She really wasn't asleep but she wasn't entirely awake either. She figured she had been asleep before and woken naturally again a few moments ago.

"Are you warm enough?"

She only had the blanket over her stomach; her legs were bare to the air, shorts and tank top to sleep in but no socks on her feet. It was the dead of winter but she was warm. And content. "Yes," she murmured.

Cal settled on the mattress and was still. "It's nearly Christmas," he said.

"Hm?"

"And it's snowin'."

Mmmm Christmas time. Mince pies, pine tress, lights, tinsel, angels, Santas. It was Christmas tomorrow. Or now maybe? She was looking forward to Christmas this year.

Gillian shifted again, moving over the bunched blanket until she found her husband's shoulder and rested her head on it heavily, sleepily. He turned then, moving slowly and gently but dislodging her head to his arm, where he cradled her tenderly against his chest, placing a hand on the small bump that was their baby growing steadily inside her. Cal's lips pressed against her forehead, warm but dry and so gentle. Gillian smiled. She cracked her eyes open but couldn't see much. It was dark and despite the light coming in from the hallway, Cal's face was in shadow.

"Are you sleepin'?" Cal asked again, his breath cool against her face.

"Not really," Gillian admitted. She had only gone to lie down because she was tired, physically. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. Just rest for a few moments while Cal finished up with the dishes and squaring away the kitchen .

"Come on," Cal urged, lighting his fingers over her belly again, then pulling back. He withdrew his arm from beneath her head slowly and placed his other hand over hers, helping to pull her to sit. "Come and look."

Gillian let him coax her gently from the room. The hall light burned into her eyes and she instinctively placed a hand to shield until she was able to adjust. The rest of the house was dark and it was quiet and Gillian suddenly got the impression it was much later than she thought; Cal had said it was Christmas. It really couldn't be after midnight could it? Surely she hadn't slept _that_ long. Cal led her into the living room and with her eyes still mostly closed, the first thing Gillian noticed was the smell of pine, thick in the room like it was a tangible mist she was wading through. That was Christmas, for Gillian, the scent of the tree. She insisted on a live one; she didn't even mind the needles falling and making a mess on the carpet.

Gillian could feel her husband leading her around the couch and instinctively kept her eyes closed until he stopped her and urged her to open them. The tree glowed pricks of starlight, white wishes against the dark green of shadow and tree, decorations of angels and ribbons baubles and tinsel. There was a candle burning low on the fireplace mantle, red and soft. Gillian knew there was tinsel around the room too, because she had put it there, but her gaze was, for now, on the lights. While she had decorated the tree, Cal had sorted the lights, and then she had done the rest of the room, the rest of the house really, slowly, as the twelve days of Christmas went by. And now it was Christmas in their living room.

Cal pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder and Gillian was suddenly aware of the room again, a song on the stereo, her husband's gaze on her face. She turned to him with a smile. "It's beautiful."

"Mmm," Cal agreed. And it was so nice that he wasn't arguing. That might have also been part of the reason Gillian had left the room earlier; she was too tired to fight. Cal's face was in more shadows, but the edges were outlined in the golden glow of the candle, and his eyes reflected the bright shine of the tree lights. He seemed different, in that kind of light, softer and more tender, but also stranger and harder for Gillian to know. They were silent for a moment, watching each other, probably thinking about the last year; it had been a tough one. But Christmas was literally a time for hope and they were having a baby. Everything would be different next year; they got to start again. And in a few months they were going to start telling people they were having a baby. They were going to Boston to tell Cal's daughter first.

"Come and have a look at the snow, then it's bed time," Cal slid his fingers down her bare arm to her hand and gripped it firmly.

Gillian went with him easily to the big windows in the front of the house. The curtains were pulled right back and draped in lazy loops across the panes were more golden lights. Across the street Gillian could see the blue and green outline of a Santa in the neighbour's front window; still lit up even though it seemed the occupants had gone to bed. The entire street was silent and still and as Cal pulled back the nets so they could see out properly, Gillian could see the snow coming down.

It was falling but not gathering yet and even though it was technically Christmas (probably, she still hadn't checked a clock), she doubted it would truly be a white one. But still, it was beautiful to see the dusty flakes falling silently from the sky; it gave the world an ethereal blanket. The smooth sound of a violin started and Gillian realised the music in the background was still playing; another song was starting.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas._

Gillian turned to Cal, putting her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. He adjusted his arms around her waist, hands in her lower back, fitting them together. This was their first Christmas together. Well, not together, but alone together. They had always had someone else around all the other years, whether it was Emily over at their house or they had gone to her brother's place. But this year, it was just the two of them... or the three of them really. And next year... Oh...

"Next year there'll be three of us," Cal murmured and Gillian flushed. It creeped her out and amazed her in equal amounts how he could sometimes read her mind. But also, because yes, next year, it would be three of them. There would be a little seven month old baby; their child.

"I know," Gillian whispered back, pulling him a little tighter against her.

_Through the years we all will be together, if the Fates allow._

She wished they would stop fighting. Christmas was supposed to be magical. Having a baby was supposed to be wonderful. But Cal kept picking at her, kept niggling and arguing and... maybe it was completely unfair to blame him. Maybe it was her. Maybe she was far less tolerant than she used to be. Maybe the pregnancy hormones were making her crazier than she thought. Perhaps now would be a good time to just... keep an eye on herself, self police, tone it down.

_From now on our troubles will be miles away._

"I love this song," Gillian said.

"Yeah," Cal agreed, either acknowledging that she did, or saying he did too. He swayed a little, side to side, rocking her gently as well as him. Gillian turned her head to rest it against his shoulder, staring out at the flakes swirling in the night sky. Cal turned his head to press his cheek against her hair and they stood for a moment together. Then Gillian shifted her mouth to press against his lips and she gave him a smile. He smiled back, his eyes bright in the candle light, the shadows of frozen water falling beside them.

"Let's go to bed," Cal suggested softly. Gillian agreed and he took her hand while he closed the curtains up again, blew out the candle, then led her from the room. They brushed teeth and got back into bed, Cal stripping down while Gillian climbed back onto the mattress. She settled against her pillow and when Cal was under the cover, he drew in close behind her. He pressed a kiss to the back of her ear, making her hum and then placing a large warm hand against her baby bump, beneath her shirt, against skin. His thumb rubbed out a pattern and she could feel the way he held his body with tension against hers.

"Merry Christmas Gillian," he murmured.

"Merry Christmas," Gillian echoed. Cal pressed another kiss against the edge of her neck but didn't turn away from her to sleep on his side of the bed, and she didn't mind. She liked him close. It would be too warm but she wasn't going to complain. She felt a thrill of excitement go through her. Next year, there would be three of them.

**PJ**

_AN: slightly delayed, but merry Christmas. _


	156. Chapter 156

Cal waited for Gillian to emerge from the bathroom. He had heard the water stop fifteen minutes ago and he wondered what the hell she was doing in there. When she did finally come back into the bedroom, her hair was wet and she was rubbing the ends of her short strands with a white towel. But she was also fully dressed, and by the smell of it, moisturised. So that was what took so long.

Cal gave her an amused smirk from the bed, where he was still lounging, where she had left him when she had gone to clean up and get dressed again. Gillian stood at the end of his bed, watching him, rubbing at her scalp with the towel. She was in black trousers and a deep purple tight fitted top. "What?" She asked, turning her head slightly to get a better angle on her hair.

"Nothin'," Cal surmised shortly.

"Uh huh," Gillian responded, but she didn't believe him. She kept at her hair and after a moment, Cal spoke again.

He gestured to the door, "Nah it's just cos, no one's here but you and me but you felt the need to get fully dressed to come back to the bedroom."

Gillian switched the towel to the other side of her head. "You're not the only person who lives here, Cal. It's a little different from you walking around naked at my place."

Cal smirked again. He mostly did that to see if he could get a rise out of her. Which it, disappointingly, didn't really. Once it earned him a slap on the ass. But that was about the extent of it. "Em's not here," Cal countered.

"But she's coming over later right?"

Cal leaned over to look at the clock beside his bed, seeing as he was not wearing his watch. "Yeah," he agreed. But he wasn't sure when later was. Knowing the teenager, it could be right on dinner time. Cal shifted further, to the edge of the mattress, and stood. He was in jeans, but no underwear, having pulled on clothing after Gillian had left for her shower; he still needed to have one too. But there was no harm in getting a little dirty again first. He approached where Gillian was standing and she turned, firstly, to meet him, surprised by his sudden presence, then tried turning away and fending him off.

"I just had a shower," she complained, trying to step away. But Cal grabbed her arms and pulled her back against him, the towel getting tangled.

He dropped his head against her neck and took a deep breath. "I know. And you smell heavenly." Sort of fresh and clean, like soap, but sweet too, like Gillian. It was a good smell, an addictive smell. It was just Gillian, no perfumes, no body wash.

"And I just got dressed," Gillian went on, but Cal noted she resisted a little less, moved her head to give him a bit more room to lay soft kisses and a few seconds later, pulled the towel free and ditched it.

Cal gave a pleased hum and pushed his body into hers, backing her up around the corner of the bed until her calves were at the mattress. His hands were at her wrists and they were up, level with their shoulders. Gillian gave a sigh and dropped back to sit. Her arms tugged down in Cal's grip, but he didn't let her go. Instead, he tried climbing in her lap, but Gillian lay back against the mattress, so he was just leaning over her, knees on either side of her hips, ass in the air, pointed towards the door. He looked down at her for a moment, her wet hair fanned out slightly around her head, her blue eyes intent on him and her lips slightly parted. He gave a smile and he wasn't sure, but she might have rolled her eyes at him.

As he lowered his mouth to meet hers Cal felt her wrists push against his hands; a feeble attempt at release. Cal let her go anyway, because holding his weight up with just his legs was causing a painful burn in his thighs. He rested his palms flat on either side of Gillian's shoulders, lowering his elbows to kiss her deeper, then straightening them to pull his mouth back, making the kiss light again. Cal felt her fingers against his bare upper arms, brushing, then the left gripped, while the right smoothed up and around his neck to toy with the hair at the back of his head.

Gillian pulled her mouth from his by turning her head to the side slightly. Cal kissed the edge of her jaw instead. "Go and have a shower," she tried to tell him, her voice entirely unconvincing. "You smell."

"You smell," Cal retorted.

"I smell good. You smell like sex," Gillian turned her nose up in disgust, the fingers of her right hand falling still.

Cal pulled back to look at her face and laughed. "Who's fault is that."

"Yours," Gillian shot at him.

"Takes two to tango," Cal countered.

"If you wanted to shower together," Gillian responded. "Then you could have come to join me."

"Oh yeah?" Cal asked lightly with a smile. He leaned down again to brush his nose against hers and Gillian gave a little huff, her fingers starting up in his hair again, petting and smoothing. "You should have said."

"Maybe I did."

"When?" Cal challenged.

"You have to pay attention," Gillian practically whispered and Cal's lip turned up in that sign of amusement.

"Don't be subtle," Cal suggested for next time.

"I'll make sure it's more obvious for you if you're a bit slow," Gillian teased.

Cal gave a growl and dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her hard to shut her up. He felt her hand bunch in his hair, pulling sharply, but not enough to dislodge him. Her hips pushed up against him and she huffed a breath against his cheek and Cal felt the flicker of her tongue against his lips. Damn but she gave as good as she got. He liked that. He liked the sass, the counter arguments; he liked it when she fought back.

"Hey Dad I was wondering. Oh. Sorry."

Cal turned his head abruptly, breaking the kiss noisily, but he was too slow. He caught a glimpse of a tartan skirt and white shirt disappearing around the doorway again, heading down the hall. "Ooops busted," Cal murmured.

Gillian gave a little surprised noise and her hands put pressure on his shoulders, trying to shove him away unsuccessfully. Cal looked back to Gillian and she stilled, looking up at him from the bed. Her expression was questioning and Cal honestly had to take a second to think. His daughter had just walked in on him kissing Gillian. Practically dry humping Gillian, to be fair, on his bed, but they were clothed, and the bedroom door was wide open, and he wasn't really sure if that meant he was in trouble or whether it was...

"I'm meant to go afta her aren't I?" Cal spoke.

"Yeah," Gillian gave a slight nod.

Cal pushed away from her, getting back to his feet, awkwardly gaining his balance again. He scuffed to the door in his jeans and was down the hall before he remembered he not only had no shirt on, but he also had no underwear on, just the jeans. He double checked his fly was at least done up and knocked on his daughter's closed bedroom door. There was a pause and then she called out to him.

"Can I come in?" Cal hesitated.

"Sure," the response was neutral.

Cal pushed down the handle and swung the door in. Emily was sitting on her bed, resting with the pillow in her back against the wall, ear buds in and her phone in her hand. Cal headed across the room and stood by the bed and she looked up at him expectantly, that almost smirking 'know it all' expression Cal really disliked. "Can I help with something?" Emily asked politely.

Cal sat himself on the mattress. Did he really have to have one of those 'now, about what you just saw' kinds of chats. It had been a long time since Emily had walked in on him, but back then it had been him and Zoe, Emily's mother, so yeah, he figured maybe this was weirder. Actually, he really had no idea how to handle this at all. Why was it Gillian never sent him away with instructions?

"So I would suggest you guys get a room, but you obviously already did."

"Yeah maybe we should have made sure the door was shut."

"If I'm interrupting then..."

Cal held up a hand to stop her. "Please don't even."

Emily kind of smirked again and Cal didn't like that she was somehow in that position. He hadn't actually done anything. It wasn't like he was naked and Gillian was writhing in ecstasy. But then again, they had kind of made sure they weren't busted before now, because Gillian had these odd notions about Emily being a child or... actually, Cal didn't know what the deal was, but now that it had happened, he realised he didn't really want Emily catching him in the act either.

"I didn't think anyone else was here," Emily went on, saving Cal from having to start the conversation or even make sense of it. Sometimes, she totally let him off the hook.

"You know Gill sometimes stays ova," Cal tried.

"Yeah but usually her car is in the driveway and that's fair warning."

Noted.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Uh, walking in on my Dad having sex?" Emily said bluntly. "Yeah."

Cal winced. "We weren't..." But half an hour ago, yeah they were. And Cal was pretty sure they hadn't bothered to shut the bedroom then either. "Expectin' you till maybe late-a," Cal finished.

"I thought we had a dinner date," Emily's eyes went just that little bit wide, which meant she was unsure.

"Yeah we do," Cal quickly confirmed. "Just thought... I mean, you don't, you're not usually here till late-a."

"So it's not ok to just come by?" Emily's eyes went a fraction wider.

"No! I mean, of course you can! Em, this is your house too. Always has been."

"But now that you're dating someone I should..?" Emily tried for clarification again.

"No. No, no. That doesn't change. Not at all. It's me, we, Gillian and I, should be more careful, that's what I'm sayin'," Cal stumbled. "No I mean, sorry luv, that you saw, I mean that you, you shouldn't have to."

"Dad, it's ok. I'm sixteen, not six. I know you guys get up to stuff. And kissing really isn't that bad."

Stuff was putting it mildly.

"But still..." Cal tried again. Gillian would want him to make it ok again. If he _ever_ walked in on Emily and her boyfriend even kissing, even if it was bloody tame, he'd want apologises and promises and written agreements that he'd never have to witness that again.

"Maybe we just need to work out a signal," Emily suggested. "I didn't see Gillian's car so just assumed you were here by yourself. But you know, I guess that doesn't always mean that anymore. So I can call ahead or something."

"No," Cal protested. "No callin' ahead. It shouldn't be like that. You should be able to come and go as you please," he reached out to her shin and gave it a squeeze, acknowledging that that was exactly what she had been doing now that she was older, moving between her mother's place and her father's. "We'll just... close the damn door next time." And oh, they'd have to be quiet, because what if she did come in and they were going for it and they wouldn't know... This was complicated.

Emily gave a shrug to say she wasn't bothered.

"I'm not tryin' to make it your problem. It shouldn't be your problem," Cal mused. Maybe this was a conversation he should have with Gillian. "Is this weird?"

"The conversation is a little weird."

Cal gave a hm and looked down at the bedspread of the moment; she wasn't wrong. They didn't often have heart to hearts. "What about your mum and Roge-a?"

"Uh," Emily looked equally unsure and appalled. "What about Mom and Roger?"

Cal suddenly realised how bad that sounded. "No. I just mean... He's livin' there and..."

"I don't really want to think about them..."

"No," Cal cut in. "No I know. Me eitha. I mean, was it," He wasn't asking if she had accidentally walked in on Zoe and Roger. He didn't want to know anything about that. But they must have a system or something over there. Maybe he should ask Zoe? Ew god no he was _never_ going to ask her about that. He was going to talk to Gillian. "How did you feel about him movin' in?"

Emily gave a shrug and Cal looked away again under her gaze; he didn't make it a habit to pry into his ex-wife's life and that by default meant he didn't often pry into his daughter's other life. He was starting to think he should give that policy a bit more thought. Did he really want for Emily to be accidentally walking in on her mother and her mother's fiancé?

"All right," Cal pushed back, straightening, preparing to leave again. He was feeling freaking uncomfortable. "Well then... I'll start dinna soon. Afta I have a showa."

"Ok," Emily agreed amicably. "Is Gillian going to stay?"

"Yeah. That's all right, right?" He suddenly felt alarmed. Was he meant to ask if it was ok? Either of them. Was he meant to check in with them?

He totally felt stuck in the middle.

"Sure," Emily agreed again.

Cal got up and started to turn away. Really needed that shower. And a minute to think.

"Dad wait," Emily halted him. "You don't have to do this. Come and talk to me about things..." She gave a gesture with her hand, her eyes in that wide innocent stance. "With you and Gillian."

"Well," Cal hedged. He took a seat again. Actually, it felt very much like he should talk to her about things with Gillian. "I haven't really... checked in with you about that."

"I'm totally find with it Dad. Gillian's great. You know that."

"Yeah," Cal gave a nod. "But it's gettin' more serious and..."

"Still fine," Emily interrupted.

"How would you feel about Gillian movin' in here?"

Emily's brown eyes went just that little bit wider in a genuine surprise expression. Cal shifted his weight from the heels of his feet to this toes while he perched on the edge of her bed and studied her face. "She's going to move in?"

"Well. I asked her," Cal admitted. And it somehow felt wrong now that he hadn't talked to Emily about his first. "But we were just sortin' out the details and the lease isn't up on her place yet. So, if you're not alright with that, well, then... we can put it off for a while."

"Don't do that Dad."

"No really," Cal insisted. "Cos you live here too. You should get a say about who's movin' in."

"And what if I said 'no?'" She stared at him, not defiantly, but certainly a challenge.

Cal nodded. "All right," he said slowly. "It hasn't been that long." Meaning, he and Gillian had only really been dating for about six months at this point. "We can wait. It's not a big deal. Maybe give it a year..."

"I wasn't actually saying no," Emily hedged.

"Well, think about it," Cal offered, getting up again. "No pressure." He reached the door. "And we can talk about it anotha time." Cal stepped out into the hallway again and closed the door behind him. Ok, that went... awkwardly. Though he wasn't sure if it was worse for Em or him. He suspected him. It looked like Emily was already prepared for that kind of conversation. And now he suspected he had just put a halt to Gillian moving in. Damn it. She was not going to be impressed. At least he hoped she wasn't going to be impressed... Because if she was ok with putting this thing on hold for a year... he wasn't sure what that meant.

Gillian was finishing her hair with the dryer when Cal got back to his bedroom. She stood at his dresser where the device was plugged in and she could use the mirror. Cal snuck up behind her and circled his arms around her waist while pressing a kiss against her neck. She gave an amused huff then turned the dryer so it blew in Cal's face. He recoiled abruptly. "Ow my eyes."

Gillian shut off the air. "You guys talked?"

"Yes," he grouched, rubbing at his eyes. "But I might have accidentally uninvited you from movin' in."

Gillian turned to him, brandishing her hair dryer a bit like a weapon. "What?"

Cal stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I sort of said to Em that if she wasn't all right with it then... we wouldn't go ahead with it."

Gillian studied him for a long moment. "You really said that?"

"Yeah," Cal admitted. "Sorry."

"Sorry for what? Treating your daughter like she matters?"

"Wait, so you're not mad at me?"

Gillian smiled. "You're funny." She put the hair dyer on top of his dresser and turned towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Cal gave a pleased smile despite himself and it deepened when she pressed a kiss against his mouth, and her breasts against his chest. He put his hands into the small of her back, holding her in place. "No I'm not mad," Gillian went on. "I'm proud of you. For talking to her. And including her in a decision that essentially affects her too."

"So you wouldn't mind if we maybe, left it for a year?"

"She doesn't want me to move in?" Gillian's blue eyes went to concerned. And maybe a little hurt was in there too.

"No she didn't say that," Cal retracted quickly. "She said she'd think about it. But I think she was just testin' to see what I'd say to that."

"We can wait," Gillian responded immediately. "I don't mind waiting."

"Well _I_ might," Cal complained. "I waited bloody long enough in the first place."

Gillian gave him an unimpressed expression. "And you can wait another two years until she goes to college." Cal turned up his lip in disgust. Gillian kissed it. "Then we can have the place to ourselves," she added, lowering her voice and giving him a pointed expression, borderline sultry.

Cal's hands tightened on her. "If you're still around by then."

"I might be," Gillian said airily and moved away from him. She reached for her hair dryer again. "Go and have your shower."

"Well I would but someone is blockin' my drawers. Can't even get to clean clothes."

Gillian gave a huff and stood further to the side, switching the machine back on, creating too much noise for a snide response. Cal picked out clean underwear and a shirt and headed to the bathroom.


	157. Chapter 157

_AN: On this day, 12__th__ May 2013, the following happened..._

The weather was being kind. It was early spring but it was sunny and relatively warm, the sky an endless stretch of baby blue. A slight breeze kept the threat of uncomfortable heat down, especially because men were in suits (some with ties). Women were in spring dresses, despite it being cold that morning, and Cal thought that was nice, that would be what Gillian would want for today; no heavy winter coats. The scent of roses drifted around him and he stood waiting, catching glimpses of other people's conversations, his daughter at his side, not an entirely easy silence. Zoe was still on his mind and she shouldn't; she was probably on Emily's too. They hadn't said a word in the car on the way down here. Not a word. For which Cal was grateful, because he didn't want to hear a lecture, didn't want to fight; not with his daughter and not today. And maybe she knew that. Because she hadn't said anything.

Cal had fixed his tie again, they had got into his car, and Emily had driven him to the Rose Gardens. Gillian had specifically asked him to check up on a few things when he got there, so he did, speaking with the marriage celebrant, checking in with the event staff who had organised the gazebo, the chairs, the decoration of the trees. The flower people arrived and Cal donned his button hole, a pink miniature gerbera. Gillian had picked her own bouquet and Cal had picked his; like their wedding rings, they weren't going to know what the other had until Gillian was at the altar. They'd done the same with clothes. It had become a 'thing'. Gillian conceded on the vows, but that meant Cal caved on practically everything else. He didn't mind too much. She wasn't asking of him too much.

Cal smoothed his tie, a silver blue, and pretended he hadn't just caught the eye of Gillian's mother in the front row. He'd already said hello to everyone, played nice; he wished he had thought to conspire with Kate's bridesmaids to get one of them to text him to let him know Gillian had her dress on, had her hair done, had got in the car, had arrived at the venue. God he hoped she was on her way. He didn't think she'd change her mind, but maybe? He never really knew for sure. There had been six months they were apart. And then there was the thing with Zoe. She couldn't know about it, now or ever. If it had been Alec, he'd kill the bastard.

Cal turned his gaze to his daughter whose eyes flickered to meet his; a deep heavy brown. She wasn't happy, Cal could tell, but he really hoped that was about her mother and not the fact that he was getting married again. She had always encouraged his relationship with Gillian. And maybe he hadn't always got it right but... he thought she was happy that they were getting married at least. She wasn't even living at home anymore; it didn't impact on her directly. Cal raised his eyebrows at her, trying to pull a funny face while not letting anyone else see; no mean feat when there were fifty guests and they were all staring at him, waiting.

Emily gave him a slight smile. She stepped forward, fidgeted with the flower in his button hole, straightening it, or at least pretending to. "You look great Dad," she murmured under the pretext.

Cal gave a genuine smile in return. "Thanks luv."

The marriage celebrant came over to where Cal was waiting on the little platform, so Gillian didn't have to stand in grass in her heels, with a smile. She took up her position and Cal took his, remembering where he was meant to stand. Emily moved to stand at his shoulder. Music started up somewhere to the side, the crowd fell silent and Cal's stomach twisted itself into a birds nest. She was actually here. She wasn't standing him up. The hardest part was already over.

And then Gillian came around the corner of a garden bed of tall red rose bushes. Cal's heart started thundering and his stomach got tighter, if that was even possible. So yeah, he was a lot more nervous than he thought he was going to be. Gillian caught his eye immediately and gave a beam of a smile that just about stopped his heart. It was sudden, it was almost painful, but it was all background information. The sun glowed off her recently cut and coloured hair and Cal stared back at the way her eyes seemed so bright as they looked back at him. She was right in front of him before he remembered he was supposed to help her step up on to the wooden platform. When he took her hand, her fingers were cold. But her smile was bright and Cal was watching her mouth, vaguely aware the celebrant was talking, and he was not letting her go.

Gillian stood across from him, no more than a few feet away, and kept his hand too. She held her flowers in her left hand, kept her fingers curled around his, and she kept on smiling. She didn't even look away. Just stared at him, with that smile, and Cal felt an odd need to cry. Gillian was going to marry him. Right now, in fact, she _was_ marrying him. It was equal parts bizarre and brilliant.

Legally, they did actually have to verbally say that they would enter into the marriage contract and that they would work to stay together in union blah blah blah. So Cal did say 'I do' when the time was right and so did Gillian; it gushed out of her, she seemed so excited. And it did something to Cal's insides; something he couldn't describe. She watched Cal the whole time, no doubts, her eyes not drifting away, and he relaxed a little. She was here and they were doing this. He had a quick look at her wedding band before slipping it on her finger and she licked her lips in an eager kind of way that actually made Cal's neck flush as he pushed it over her knuckles. She handed off her flowers to Casey to take Cal's ring and his hand and join the two together. She held his eye as she did it, trusting that it would fit as she slid it over the joints, but not all the way down, allowing for the extra webbing a man had on his fingers that a woman didn't. Then she squeezed his fingers, hard, and smiled so brightly, and Cal relaxed a little more. Yeah, it felt like relief.

The surreal feeling didn't end all day, but it did get easier. After they exchanged rings (and Gillian's mother cried, Cal could hear her), they signed the marriage certificate, (Gillian as Foster for the last time!) and they went for photographs amongst the roses. And Cal got to speak to Gillian alone. Finally. As the photographer walked ahead with the bridesmaids and Emily, Cal took his new wife's hand and pulled her back gently to lag behind, his wedding band digging into his finger acutely. She looked over at him and smiled; so many beautiful smiles. Finally Cal just stopped walking and Gillian turned back to him. He leaned in to kiss her but she put a hand to his chest, pushing while she tilted her head away. Cal pouted around a sharp flare of panic in his gut.

"Wait until after the photos," Gillian murmured.

"But I haven't got to kiss you yet."

"Wait," Gillian told him again. "Then I'll kiss you."

"That sounded like a promise," Cal gave a grin.

"It so was," Gillian agreed. She took a careful step backwards on the manicured grass. Their hands were still secured and she tugged on Cal's arm. "Photos," she prompted. "They'll wonder where we are."

"Let them wonder," Cal muttered under his breath. Gillian didn't seem to hear him, or she chose to ignore.

They caught up to the group and Cal smiled, didn't smile, looked that way, turned this way, stood on that side, then the other side, his hip like that, put his hand on a shoulder, on a waist, his arms around his wife, a hug with his daughter, hold Gillian's flowers, tilt them towards the camera. It seemed like forever. It was about an hour. Then they got into two cars and headed to the reception at the hotel, where everyone else, luckily, had been snacking on champagne and canapés.

And Cal was alone with Gillian again. After they settled into their seats, before the car had barely pulled into the lane, Gillian's hand was against Cal's jaw, pulling him towards her. She pressed her lips against his, fitting without hesitation. Cal felt his stomach drop in relief and he brought his hand to her elbow, to keep her there. He kissed her slowly, trying, really, to not smudge her lipstick; he didn't want to wear it and he wasn't sure how she was meant to reapply. Unless she was hiding the tube in her cleavage.

"Much better," Gillian murmured, pulling away from him. She gave him an amused smile and reached with her fingers to wipe at his lips anyway. Cal smiled back, let her, his eye drifting to the ring on her third finger. It was a thin band, like her last wedding ring, but it seemed plain, simple, no shiny stones, not so much like the last one.

"You look really beautiful," Cal blurted.

Gillian's fingers faltered and her blue eyes met his with another smile. "Thank you. You look pretty good yourself."

Cal gave a quirk of his lip. Really, all he'd done was get a haircut and wear a suit. Not that big of a deal.

"I like this suit."

"It's new," Cal supplied.

"I noticed," Gillian told him, an impressed but teasing tone in her voice. She fingered his tie, toyed with it, then smoothed it against his chest. She was wearing a figure hugging dress, in silk or satin, Cal couldn't tell; a light purple, lilac or lavender, Cal couldn't tell.

"When can we go home?"

"Later."

"How much late-a?"

"A lot. Prepare yourself," Gillian sat back in her seat, her hand against her thigh. But she did look over at him with glinting eyes and Cal knew she was excited about the rest of the evening too: dinner, dancing and cake. Cal had agreed. Readily. She wasn't twisting his arm. It was a compromise. Look at him starting off his marriage like a grown up.

Gillian had found the function room in the hotel. She had picked the colours, decided on the decorations and Cal just showed up to help put them up where he was told. Which was new for him. He thought he might be bored, he thought it'd be too much of a girly thing, but he had actually enjoyed being involved in the preparations. The cake testing afternoon hadn't been all bad either. He suspected Gillian already knew what she wanted and was merely dragging it out to wind him up. Too bad he already felt as though he'd walk on a bed of nails for her.

Damn he was turning into a sap.

They got applause as they came in. Gillian beamed and Cal found himself grinning and she took his hand, leading him across the room to the head table. The bridesmaid's and Cal's 'best man' followed behind. Casey leaned across to tell Gillian the room looked great and Cal scanned the crowd for faces he recognised, placing them mentally so he was aware of where everyone was. Then the hotel's even coordinator was getting everyone's attention to let them know how the next few hours were going to go: dinner. The entrees were already coming out, the main was also going to be plated but dessert was going to be buffet style. A waitress was already pouring wine for the head table as their salads were put down in front of them.

"Excuse me Gillian?"

Cal also turned his head, interested, as the event coordinator, now finished with her speech, leaned in toward his wife. Gillian looked up at the woman and smiled, attentive. "We have a few unexpected guests."

Cal's first thought was 'who the hell?' But he didn't get to hear who it was. Emily told him the Caprese salad was really good. Cal had to take a bite to agree. It _was_ good though. A waitress asked Cal which wine he wanted. By then he was thoroughly distracted. The food was very good, the wine not bad, and afterwards people came by to talk. The photographer took candid shots. The dessert buffet was set up. Cal lost track of Gillian for a while but hung out with his daughter. She had come home specially and it seemed she had forgotten about her mother for a while too. They danced and laughed and she introduced him to the young man who was meant to be her date, but who was spending a lot of time at the table with Ria and Loker and their dates. He was just a friend, this young man, who Emily had gone to school with, and who happened to still in the DC area. Cal wasn't entirely sure it was just a 'friends' thing but grilling his daughter about it at his wedding probably wasn't a good idea. He might do that tomorrow.

"Hey."

Cal felt a tug at his sleeve and turned. Gillian smiled back at him, coming in to place a kiss on his mouth. "Want to have dessert with me?"

"Absolutely," Cal agreed. He made a quick introduction between Emily's date and his wife, which turned into a ten minute conversation and he tried to not look bored. He wasn't even a big fan of dessert but he did want to drag his wife away. He'd already had to do the rounds and be polite and say hello. He smiled for photos. He was being good; it was a long day already. He was looking forward to just taking her home so it would be the two of them. He liked it better that way.

Finally conversation wound up. Cal realised he had lost track of what they were talking about. He hoped Gillian wouldn't ask him to comment. She was pretty good about not telling him off for not paying attention, but still, it was easy bonus points to earn when he did. Damn. They reached the dessert table where people were drifting up to help themselves. Gillian found someone else to talk to, who Cal didn't recognise, so he grabbed two bowls and served himself fruit, mini-cheese cake and pannacotta. For Gillian he got one of each of the little chocolate desserts; some sort of mud cake with ganache by the look of it, chocolate panacotta, a few little animal shaped chocolates and strawberries. Once he'd done that he had to stand and patiently wait for his wife to stop talking again, before they could go and sit down.

If Cal jiggled the bowl, the panacotta swung back and forth. His wedding ring was digging in to his finger.

"Ok talk to you later," Gillian wrapped it up and Cal quickly paid attention again, just in time to give a nice friendly farewell smile to whoever that was. "Oh," Gillian saw him. "You served up?"

"I did. Death by chocolate alright with you?"

"Just about perfect," Gillian agreed. She took her bowl from him and linked her left fingers into his right and they headed across the room to the head table again. They were the only ones sitting there now and Cal made sure he pulled his chair in nice and close to Gillian's, so her elbow was practically in his chest.

"So has this day been absolutely everythin' you dreamed it would be?" Cal concentrated on his wobbly panacotta for a second, then looked over at his wife.

She gave him a smile, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "Pretty close," she agreed.

"What do you mean close?" Cal asked softly, watching her as she put the spoon in her mouth and rolled her eyes at him in a sign of pleasure. Cal grinned; naughty.

Gillian removed the spoon to her plate and gave him a shrug. "I don't have any complaints."

"But you're hedgin'," Cal pried.

"I'm not."

"So are," he muttered taking a bite of his own dessert. He went back to studying her face but she just gave a little sigh and a half eye roll and he really didn't know if he should be pushing her for a proper answer or she was just teasing him. Sucked he wasn't meant to be reading her.

"What about you?" Gillian changed the subject. "Was this day everything you wanted it to be?"

"Well you showed up so it's pretty much been phenomenal."

Gillian laughed and leaned in closer to him, curious. "Really? You didn't think I would show up?"

Cal shrugged his left shoulder, the one she practically had her right cheek pressed to. "Nah. Can't resist me," he offered by way of explanation. Gillian laughed again, straightened up, went back to her dessert. Cal watched her out of the corner of his eye for a moment but she was done; she figured he was teasing.

Cal finished eating and pushed his bowl away. There was a clatter of cutlery against glassware and Loker's voice calling out across the room. Cal groaned inwardly. The room quietened down. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Eli, I work for the lovely couple at the Lightman Group."

"He's totally drunk," Gillian murmured to Cal.

"Definitely on his way," Cal agreed resting an arm along the back of her chair.

"This could be amusing."

"That's four words I would use to describe Eli."

Gillian gave Cal a smile. She also pushed her bowl away but Cal could see there was still dessert left behind. She leaned back against his arm and chest, resting her right hand on his thigh, curling her left in her lap. Cal could still see her wedding ring though. It completely drew his eye.

"I've known Cal and Gillian for six years now."

"Cos he was lucky enough you gave him a job," Cal added under his breath. He saw Gillian's smile out of the corner of his eye; he kept his gaze across the room. He watched Emily's date lean in to whisper something in her ear. Something that made her smile. Cal narrowed his eyes in their direction.

"I think he was more lucky you didn't fire him the first chance you got."

Cal smirked suddenly. That was true actually. Gillian kept telling him to give Eli another chance. After three of those begging sessions Cal made her work with the young man and his big mouth for about six months; then she started begging him to let her fire Eli. Heh. The younger man was up there now trying to embarrass them but really, with the stories Cal could tell, he'd have the poor guy quivering in his shoes if he gave it half a thought. Gillian squeezed Cal's thigh as the other man ended his speech.

"So Cal, you're one lucky bastard," Eli raised his glass in salutation.

Cal leaned forward to get his half drunk wine.

"Congratulations," Eli added, the room echoed it, Cal clinked his glass with his wife's, smiled, drank to the toast.

Then Gillian's dad made a short speech. Then the bridesmaids. Even Emily got up and said a few words. A few of Gillian's friends spoke. Cal got more bored. Then he remembered that he should really thank everyone for coming, so before anyone else could start yammering on about romance and blah blah blah, he got to his feet and remembered his manners. He thanked people on behalf of himself and Gillian (though he didn't for a second think Gillian needed him to speak on her behalf. This was just earning him points; he knew how to play the game). He thanked the venue staff for looking after them, promised there would be cake shortly, said he was thrilled (well, he was), the usual stuff. He drank to his wife, who was giving him a big grin right now and when he sat she leaned closer to kiss his cheek.

Duty done.

Cal relaxed again. And finished his wine. He thought about what Eli had said for a second. He was a lucky bastard. He really was. Gillian had married him today. She had actually shown up and married him and now she was his wife and, possibly more importantly, he was her husband. So yeah, he had to play the game. Properly this time. He knew.

"So shall we cut that cake then?" Gillian asked, placing her wine on the table. She took Cal's empty glass from his hand, her wedding ring clinking against the vessel.

"Sure," Cal agreed, because the sooner they did that, and then danced, the sooner this evening would be over and he could go home. Then he wouldn't have to play as nicely; he was already tired.

The cake was only two layers. The top was lemon, the bottom chocolate. Gillian picked both, and Cal wasn't really bothered either way. Holding hands, or more, Cal had his hand over Gillian's on the knife, they sliced into the top layer, posing for the cheesy requisite photos, but that was where the tradition stopped. They didn't cram a piece into each other's mouths. They weren't keeping the top layer for the christening of their first child. The hotel's kitchen cut the rest of the cake and people helped themselves. Cal had a few crumbs of each, which were really nice, but he wasn't overly fussed. He figured it was going to appear in their fridge and he'd be eating it for the next few days. Gillian didn't eat any either. And once that was done Cal took her hand and dragged her out to the dance floor, just as Emily started up the jukebox again by the bar (following the plan, good one Em).

"Dancing too huh?" Gillian teased as she unashamedly wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body tightly against his.

Cal settled his hands low on the back of her hips; two could play that game. "That was the deal wasn't it?"

"It was. I'm just impressed you haven't tried to weasel your way out of any of it."

"Weasel?" Cal asked, shocked, raising his voice a little as the song started to get louder. He hugged his arms against her sides, making them a snug fit. "Me? Weasel?"

Gillian smirked at him, her thigh brushing against his as Cal turned them in a lazy circle. "No you're right. Stubbornly refuse might be more accurate."

Cal actually felt a pang in his stomach at that one. He wasn't sure that was entirely a joke. But he forced it aside because damnit, it was his wedding day, and if it wasn't strange enough tying the knot again, that morning with Zoe made it odder and he really just wanted to get through the rest of the night without anything going amiss.

Emily joined them on the dance floor with her date and Cal noted they didn't fall into each other's arms as they moved. It seemed friendly enough. Other people joined them. Someone dimmed the lights, the cake came back, people mingled, Cal stared at Gillian, she smiled at other people around them. Cal tried to refrain from giving her ass a squeeze. That kind of thing was funny when they were around their good friends, but in front of her family? Nope. But he did want to do something lewd with her. Actually, kissing her might be ok and that would satisfy the urge for a while.

Shame he had to be relatively chaste.

Gillian gave him a smile. "Want to go somewhere?"

"Sweet Jesus, tell me you're serious," Cal almost whined.

"Aw are you having a hard time?" Gillian paused for a microsecond. "Pun intended."

"It's not that bad yet," Cal responded softly. He pressed his lips against her ear. "But the thoughts are creepin' in." He felt Gillian huff a laugh and when he pulled back her eyes were bright in the dimness. She petted her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, then tugged him down to kiss again. Mouth practically closed. Not as fun.

"Seriously," Gillian whispered against his cheek. "Let's go ride the elevator."

"Was that a metaphor for?" Cal started to ask but Gillian shook her head slightly with a smile. No, she really meant going to ride the elevator. She was five. But Cal would take it, because then he would be alone with her. Alone seemed like much more fun than having to play nicely with people he didn't know or really care to.

"You slip out first and I'll follow."

"Now that definitely sounded rude."

Gillian fixed him with a stern expression.

"No," Cal corrected. "You go first and I'll follow you. You're more likely to get stuck talkin' to someone and I'd be out there waitin'."

"You've thought this through."

"I fantasise."

Gillian tried to hide her smile. "Maybe you can tell me about that sometime." She slipped out of his grasp before he could react and Cal watched her go for a moment, standing still in the middle of the dance floor. And then he realised that if someone were watching he'd look like a right idiot. So he headed off the dance floor and towards the... cake table, which was by the door. He glanced up in time to see Gillian slip out of the room, totally unencumbered by polite small talk, so Cal changed course and headed straight for the door.

The elevators were to the side of the lobby and Cal had to head down a short corridor to get back there. There was still no sign of Gillian so she must have made it at least that far without having to stop and talk to someone. Cal quickened his pace, came out into the big atrium of the hotel, and there, yes, there was Gillian, looking up at the numbers above the elevators. Cal hurried over to her and her hand reached for him, even though she didn't look. As he arrived, the doors to a car popped open. It was empty. They stepped in. The doors closed. Gillian turned abruptly, pressing her mouth against his. Cal opened his and grabbed her tightly. Gillian gave a little moan, her fingers sliding into his hair, around his shoulders and then there was a ding and the car came to a stop, the doors repelled sharply open.

Cal withdrew his hands quickly, brushed a palm against his skull, trying to flatten his hair again. There was no one there though, waiting to get on, and Cal realised he didn't remember seeing Gillian picking a floor. She took the hand that was dangling at his side and tugged him into the corridor. It was also empty and oddly hushed but she kept moving, like she knew where she wanted to go. Cal let himself be lead, trying to get a hold of himself again. That was totally what he'd been after all day: some serious making out. Except the lift wasn't long enough and now they were on the top floor. Gillian dragged him over to a window inset in the hotel wall. She gave an impressed little sigh but she didn't look at Cal. She was looking at the lights over the city. Oranges and reds and yellows.

Then she turned to look at him, a smile on her mouth, her fingers still gripping his. "You seem happy," Cal jumped in before she could speak.

"I _am_ happy," Gillian agreed easily, her eyes bright. She bumped her hips closer, standing within the width of his body.

"So today was good?" Cal tried again.

"Of course," Gillian grinned.

"It _was_ what you wanted?"

"Absolutely," she nodded. "What about you?" And Cal saw the tiniest flicker of doubt. He gave her a warm smile, leaned down and kissed her softly, sweetly, with meaning; words wouldn't do enough to persuade her, but his mouth still could. Gillian gave a hum when Cal pulled away again, then a sigh and when their eyes locked, hers were warm and bright. "I'll take that as a yes then."

"You should."

"We'll go home soon. Promise."

Cal gave a slight smile, that upturn of his lip that said he was amused.

"You look tired," Gillian told him.

"Ouch," Cal feigned hurt. But he relaxed again in the next second. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"Really?" Gillian asked concerned. "How come?"

"Nervous."

"Really?" Her tone went to disbelief.

"Kept thinkin' bout you."

"Oh yeah? Gillian teased.

"Somethin' about it bein' a big deal today."

Gillian gave a slight laugh and Cal grinned. She kissed him again, a brush of her mouth against his. "I'm glad we did this."

"Got married?"

"That and also, sneaking away for a moment."

Cal smiled. "Big fan of that too. Cept the lift was too short."

Gillian pressed her mouth against his again, another chaste kiss.

Cal slid his arms purposefully and slowly around her waist. "You know what we should have done?"

"What's that?" Gillian played along, sliding her arms around his waist as well.

"We should have got a room."

Gillian gave a slight laugh. "That figures." She pinched at his waist and Cal squirmed on cue. "But think how nice it will be to go home," she lowered her voice. "Just you and me. In our bed..." She twisted her hips and rocked into him. Her eyes were bright and her smile wide and it made something fill up in Cal's chest. He would have agreed to anything at this point. And it still amazed him. He definitely hadn't felt this way before.

"We should go back," Gillian continued.

Cal pouted.

"They'll wonder where we went."

Cal wiggled his eyebrows.

"Exactly." Gillian stepped away from him, but held out her hand.

Cal took it, followed along dutifully behind her. "Can we make out on the way down again?"

"Absolutely."

**PJ**

Gillian thanked the event coordinator again. Emily gave her a wave from the door, and then she was gone, Eddie trailing behind her. Gillian scanned the room further, looking for Cal. Her husband. Oh wow. Her husband... She spied him sitting at a half packed down table, slouched so he was almost obscured by the growing stack of chairs next to him. She approached, slid a hand over his shoulder and asked him if he was ready to leave. He looked up at her, his eyes a little bleary and agreed. She asked him if he was ok. He got to his feet and repeated that he was. Gillian reached out her hand and he took it without a second glance, as if it were natural. It should be. They were married now. That simple gesture, right now, was the best feeling in the world. She suggested they go home. Cal agreed.

She drove and she wasn't sure but she thought Cal went to sleep. He really must have slept poorly last night. Which was kind of cute, when she thought about it. He was nervous. That was nice to know. But of course she was going to show up today. She was in love with the man. She wouldn't have it any other way. She had tried living without him. Now she knew she just needed him. She _wanted_ him.

When they pulled into the garage Cal stirred, sat up and pretended he was awake the whole time. He helped bring in the flowers, left over wine, the cake, Gillian's overnight bag and change of clothes from when she stayed over at Casey's to get ready for the wedding. "You want your flowers in wart-a?"

"Yes please," Gillian called over her shoulder as she headed down the hall. It was late and the neighbourhood was quiet. "Then come to bed," she added from the doorway. "I have something to show you."

Cal gave her a grin from the kitchen doorway opposite, "Is it rude?"

"Absolutely," Gillian answered. She heard her husband chuckle behind her as she turned away. She dumped her bag on the bed, tossed her clothes from last night over the end of the bed and took her toothbrush and dirty laundry into the bathroom, as well as the something rude she had bought for Cal. She brushed her teeth and removed some of her makeup. Then she slipped out of her wedding dress and changed into the lingerie. She heard Cal in the bedroom, dumping his shoes heavily on the floor and slamming a drawer shut. Gillian readjusted her boobs and fluffed her hair. When she pulled the bathroom door open for the grand reveal, Cal was in bed, face down in his pillow and the eye she could see was closed.

Ooooh-kay.

Gillian crept across the carpet in bare feet and knelt on the still made side of the bed. The eye came open and looked her up and down. "Wow," Cal murmured half into the pillow case.

"Kind of wasn't expecting you to be asleep."

"I'm not asleep," Cal's voice went high in indignation. He struggled against the mattress to get his arms underneath him to push himself up.

Gillian leaned down to smooth her fingers against the back of his head. "Don't get up. It's ok."

"No, it's," Cal turned onto his side. "Not married till we consummate it."

Gillian tried not to laugh. "You're tired."

Cal stared at her for a moment. "See now that shouldn't be wasted."

Gillian gave a slight smile, smoothing his hair. "There's always tomorrow."

"And I promise I'm gonna wake you up for dirty things," Cal settled back.

Gillian laughed and moved to get under the covers. She reached over and put out Cal's light. In the darkness he mumbled, "just got an eyeful of boob."

Gillian smirked to herself. She thought about putting more clothes on in case she got cold; it wasn't like she was wearing much. Instead she dug the covers out from between them and snuggled in closer against her husband, against his chest. "You really didn't sleep well huh?"

"Kept tossin' and turnin'. Only got a few hours," Cal lifted his chin so Gillian could tuck beneath it.

"Yeah me too."

"You couldn't sleep?"

"I woke really, really early. It was still dark," Gillian settled a hand against his waist. "Couldn't get back to sleep."

"Ouch."

"I wanted to call you."

"You should have. I was probably awake."

Gillian pressed a kiss against his neck. "Turns out you needed your beauty sleep."

"Tryin' to imply I _need_ it?"

Gillian didn't respond. He was sleepy, his words slow and starting to run together. He was about to fall. If she stayed quiet, he would go really quickly. But one last thing. "I love you Cal."

"Love you too."

"Today was a good day."

"Me too."


End file.
